


Clerical Errors

by roymustang (SpicyReyes)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Edward Elric, Edward Elric Is A Little Shit, Edward Elric Swears, Fix-it?? Maybe??, Grumpy Paranoid Shut-In Ed, Heavy Angst, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, M/M, Multi, Older!Ed AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Strap In Folks It's Gonna Feel Real Bad, but also BAMF everyone, ed and al having sibling banter, lots of gays, maes hughes the Mom Friend™, way too much german culture blending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-03-31 17:32:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13980036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyReyes/pseuds/roymustang
Summary: “We’re chasing rumors of skilled alchemists,” Mustang said. “Your name came up, several times. Thirty-one-year-old alchemic genius Edward Elric, from Risembool, living with a family friend and his younger brother.”“Check your sources, bastard,” Ed told him. “I’m twenty-six. Al’s twenty-five.”('What if Ed was an adult the whole time' AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this??? i just was like 'wow a lot of fma would go differently if ed were not an Actual Child' and then. this happened  
> Ed is 26, Al is 25, and she's not in chapter 1 except in mention but Winry is 26 also  
> everyone else will probably be the same?? ish??? if i throw in any of the characters who were ALSO children they may get aged up too but who knows  
> also this is a very loose definition of a fix-it bc it will be just as fucked up as the anime/manga except i hate ultimatum endings so it will probably end differently  
> how?? stay tuned and find out lmao  
> enjoy this self indulgent trash  
> also yea this is royed because i love frenemies to lovers and im taking advantage of the lack of an age gap to make it slightly less Weird™  
> is it problematic? yea probably but im also writing a story on my main pseud about cannibal husbands so who really cares anymore

 

Edward Elric stared at the burned-out shell of his childhood home, taking in the bits of green that were finally starting to knit their way across the blackened earth, springing from the ashes like legend of the phoenix.

“Fifteen years, today,” he told the ground. “Al’s seal is stable, right now, but it’s...fragile. I _need_ to get something more permanent. Holding him in stasis like this is just...cruel.” He ran a hand down his face. “I’m thinking I need to leave Risembool. Winry headed out to Rush Valley for her apprenticeship, so maybe I’ll head that way? ...Ugh, no, I can’t keep asking her to carry us. Her and Granny have done too much for us already. Maybe Central?”

He knelt down, dragging his fingers through the ash, remembering the day months before when he’d taken the torch to the remains of the house.

He’d been burning it, little by little, for fifteen years. Every single time, some part would survive, and a year later he’d come back and do it again. Taking every bit of wood down to dust until there wasn’t a single trace of what once was there.

When Al was back to his body, maybe he’d build a new house there. A sign of a fresh start on the death that lay behind them.

...Or, maybe not. There was too much blood in those ashes. He didn’t want to build a life on that.

“What do you think, mom?” Ed asked, softly. “Over twenty years since you died. Fifteen since I tried to bring you back.” He clenched his fist, pushing his weight onto his knuckles, feeling them sink a centimeter down in the loose dirt. “I’m twenty-six, mom, and I have no idea what I’m doing. I should have left, should have started searching right away. I thought…” He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. “I listened to Al. _Dad can fix it, wait for dad.”_ Tears spilled down his cheeks as his jaw clenched, a grieving anger rising in him, like it always did when he thought of Hohenheim. “Five, ten, fifteen years - no sign of him. Why did I listen?” He curled in on himself on the dirt, palms down on the ground to brace him as he cried. “Why did I _trust_ him? He left us and he had no plans of coming back, but I couldn’t _see_ that.” He lowered his forehead to press against the ground. “I’m sorry, mom,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“...Edward Elric?” a deep voice called behind him, hesitant.

He sat up in an instant, spinning around to see a man in military blues, staring down at him with a look that suggested he was worried he’d found a madman.

The woman behind him - also military, goddamn it - had a hand on her hip, very close to a gun. Not a threat, but preparing for the worst.

“Who’s asking?” Ed prompted, standing up, using a sleeve to scrub his face dry.

“Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang,” the man introduced. “And Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.”

“Mustang, huh?” Edward murmured. He’d heard the name once or twice, in the mouths of distant visitors who witnessed his alchemy. He’d been compared to a lot of big names, in the past, but never really put much weight on them.

No one’s alchemy was like his. His was unique, if not for its style, for how it was earned. All his knowledge that didn’t come from the dusty journals of an absent father came from the bright white light of Truth.

“You’re heard of me, then?” Mustang asked, and Ed noted how his shoulders squared back a bit, obviously prideful in his own reputation.

Ed looked away, toward the Rockbell house. “Heard your name,” he corrected. “It’s usually lumped in with conversation about Ishval, though, so I tend not to listen too close.”

“Many people tune out things they don’t want to hear,” Mustang said, and Ed bristled at the veiled judgement in his tone.

“Or things they don’t want to remember,” he bit out. “My friend went to the fronts with her parents as a medic. They died right in front of her. She threw herself head first into her work and as far as I know, she hasn’t come back up.”

Mustang’s lips thinned into a tight, pale line. “I see. The Rockbells, right? I heard-...”

“Save it,” Ed snapped, glaring at the soldier. “It’s not something I want a half-assed apology for, or anything else you have to say. I want to know why you’re looking for _me,_ so I can tell you how far to shove it.”

“We’re chasing rumors of skilled alchemists,” Mustang said. “Your name came up, several times. Thirty-one-year-old alchemic genius Edward Elric, from Risembool, living with a family friend and his younger brother.”

“Check your sources, bastard,” Ed told him. “I’m twenty-six. Al’s twenty-five.”

“So am I,” Mustang said. “We’re closer in age than I thought, then.”

Ed rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll be best friends. Lemme guess - you’re military, and you’re looking for alchemists, so that means _state_ alchemists. You want me to be a dog of the military, like you.”

“The military comes with lots of benefits,” Mustang said.

“If you tell me there’s dental, I’ll stab you.”

Mustang’s lip twitched, in a sort of half-smile, before flattening again. “Research benefits. Access to restricted information, a research budget, an allowance to explore new avenues you couldn’t alone.”

Mustang shifted his weight, and Edward instantly caught what was going to come out of his mouth next, clenching his fists.

“There’s...rumors. That your brother is sick. Medical alchemy could be where you stake your research, if you-...”

“Shut up,” Ed hissed. “You _shut up._ Don’t you dare use Alphonse against me, you bastard.” He crossed the field, shoving a finger into Mustang’s chest, glaring at him up close (and scowling deeper at the few inches he had to look up to do so). “Al is not _sick,_ he’s not _injured._ Not in a way you can fix with medicine or automail or anything else. I’ve been keeping him stable for _fifteen years_ with alchemy, you asshole, and if there was something more permanent I’d already have my bags packed to go after it. My brother is _everything_ to me, and don’t you _dare_ imply otherwise.”

Mustang blinked down at him, and Ed reeled back as he heard the other soldier’s gun click, shifting his stare to look dead into the barrel of the pistol aimed at him.

“Stand down,” she said, voice steel. “You are threatening an officer of the Amestrian military.”

“And you’re threatening a pissed off older brother,” Ed told her. “Wanna find out which one gets you into more trouble?”

Her fingers shifted on the gun, only for Mustang to dart a hand out between them, waving her down.

“Edward,” Mustang said. “Have you ever heard of the Philosopher’s Stone?”

Ed thought of a diagram deep in his father’s books, of a massive array, the circles the only thing in the book ever drawn unevenly. His hands would have been shaking as he sketched it, no doubt. A note in the side, doing the math. How much alchemic energy was needed to activate it, how much would need to go in to get anything out.

His father had written down _5,000Ss_ as the key to one small stone, in a deep press of pen that told Ed he didn’t want to know what ‘Ss’ meant.

Ed never burned anything so fast.

“I’ve heard of it,” he said. “But they don’t exist. They’re a theory. They’d take way too much energy to actually make, if they’re strong enough to tip the balance of equivalent exchange.”

“Sometimes we get rumors, in the military,” Mustang countered. “Potential stone use, here and there throughout the nation. Not to mention you could research how they’d work, see if you could make one yourself.”

 _Five thousand units,_ his mind whispered. _What are the units? What would he need to collect?_

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked to see a metal suit glint in the sun, his brother peeking out of the Rockbell house to see what was taking him so long.

Ed grit his teeth. _It doesn’t even matter, does it? What_ **_wouldn’t_ ** _you do for Al?_

He let out a low breath. “Alright, fine. You want me to sign up? Show me the dotted line.” He pointed at Mustang again, glare fierce. “But I’m telling you right now, I’m doing this for my brother. Do anything, _anything_ that breaks this deal, and you won’t know what hit you.”

Mustang gave him a small, controlled smile. “You missed the last test. The next is at the beginning of next year. I’ll meet you in Central, should you choose to come.”

The man _saluted,_ then, and then turned on his heel, heading off. The woman followed close behind on his heels, and Ed watched them leave with a strange feeling in his chest.

“Well, mom,” he whispered. “Looks like we’re leaving. Hopefully we’ll come back whole.”

If not…

Well, it couldn’t very well get _worse._

 _Oh, shit,_ he thought to himself. _I just fucking jinxed myself, didn’t I?_

  
  


“You’re going to Central?”

Ed looked up from packing his bag, turning to Granny. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “If this ‘Mustang’ guy thinks we could find something useful in the military, then that’s where I’m headed.”

“Brother, you shouldn’t have to sell yourself to them,” Alphonse argued. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t, Al.” Ed turned to his brother, face tense. “How many times have I had to modify that seal? The blood keeps wearing itself out. I need to find a way to get you back to a body - or, at the very least, make that seal last more than a couple years.”

“You’re walking into death, kid,” Granny Pinako said. “No way the military isn’t gonna look right through you.”

Ed bristled at her dismissal. “What choice do I have? Sit here in Risembool and wait to die? I’m tired of doing nothing. I got us into this, I’m gonna get us out.”

“We _both_ chose to do what we did,” Al argued. “Don’t punish yourself for both of our choices.”

Ed grit his teeth. “You wouldn’t have done it, even _considered_ it, if I hadn’t brought it up. The transmutation, the backlash, that’s all on me. Hell, Al, I’m even the one who was selfish enough to trap you in a suit of armor so I wasn’t alone.”

“I would have died, otherwise.”

Ed let out a low, harsh breath. “Listen, Al. I’m not changing my mind.” He shut his suitcase with a final _snap._ “I’m going to Central, and I’m taking the stupid test. If the military wants my soul for your body, they can have it. I gave two limbs for my sins - the rest of me is fair game.”

Al bowed his head slightly, before looking back up, the tiny alchemic glow marking his ‘eyes’ locking on Ed. “Then I’m going with you.”

“You can’t join up,” Ed said. “They’d realize you weren’t physically human.”

“I can keep an eye on you, though,” Al said. “That’s what brothers are for, right?”

Ed blinked, and then smiled, scooping up his suitcase by the handle. “Yeah, I guess it is.” Turning to Pinako, he told her, “Thank you for letting us stay here, and helping us so much over the years. We owe you.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing,” she said. “You’re family. Just make sure you remember that when the military gets you on a leash, okay, brat?”

Ed laughed, waving her off. “Yeah, yeah, you old bat. I’m not gonna abandon you, I promise.” Then, more seriously, he nodded to her. “No matter what I end up becoming, no matter what things I have to do, I won’t lose myself to them. I’m doing this for Al, and if I can’t hold onto anything else, I’ll hold onto that.”

“You better,” she said. “Now get out, shrimp, you have a train to catch.”

Ed bristled, but Al dragged him out of the house before he could make the last thing he said to Granny a series of colorful insults.

Damn it, it wasn’t his fault he was tiny. He’d barely grown since their transmutation. The difference between his height at eleven and his height at twenty six was a mere _five centimeters._ It had to be part of his punishment from the Gate, or something.

Al insisted it was his hatred of milk stunting his growth.

Al could eat a dick. He was plenty tall enough to kick ass.

  
  


Central was exactly what Ed always imagined it’d be: fucking gross.

There were way too many people, way too many buildings, and a general sense of _too much._ Too much noise, too much metal, too much trash in the streets and too many cars on the roads and…

“You look like you’re gonna throw up,” Al told him, unhelpfully. “Does it smell bad?”

Ed sniffed. “No. Well, yeah, but that’s not it. I just don’t like there being this many people around.”

“You’re antisocial,” Al said. “Of course it bothers you. I don’t think city people talk to strangers, though, so you should be okay.”

Ed sure hoped so. People sought him out in Risembool all the time for alchemy orders, but they were all fielded through Granny Pinako. He rarely ever spoke to anyone directly, if he could help it. He’d never been _great_ with people, but the longer he stayed holed up in Granny’s house in Risembool, the harder it was to talk to people when he came back out again.

He was sort of dreading the amount of conversing with strangers he’d have to do to join the military, but he’d deal with that when he got to it. Doing things for a reason was always better than doing them just because, so he could probably stomach being social for the sake of getting the research access he needed.

If not, he’d just make Al talk to everyone for him. His brother was always far more keen on conversation than he was.

“Do we know where we’re staying?” Ed asked. “The bastard is probably not gonna be around until the actual exams get here, so we're on our own.”

“Edward?” A voice called, from the crowd in train station. “Edward Elric?”

“Oh no,” Ed muttered to his brother. “Someone knows me.”

The man calling them waved his arms wildly to get their attention, and Al immediately made to head over to him, leaving Ed scrambling behind him to catch up.

“Oh, you’re Edward, then?” the man greeted, when Al got close, launching forward to shake his large armor hand. “I’m Maes Hughes! Roy asked me to keep an eye out for you.”

“I’m Edward,” Ed corrected, strolling up to stand behind his brother. “That’s my brother, Al. Mustang sent you? What’s he want with us? I’m taking his stupid test, but that’s all I agreed to! He can shove any other favors right up his-...!”

“Brother!” Al interrupted. “You don’t have to always be so suspicious!”

Ed scowled. “You didn’t meet that guy. He was skeevy. I don’t trust him.”

The man in front of them - Maes, right? - started laughing. “You really did meet Roy! He grows on you, I promise. He mentioned that you probably didn’t think very much of him.” The man reached out, dropping a hand down on Ed’s shoulder. “I’m not here to sell him to you, though! I wanted to extend an invitation. Stay at my house tonight! Eat dinner with my lovely wife and daughter. I’ll introduce you to Central tomorrow.”

Ed narrowed his eyes, suspicious, because this guy was... _really_ friendly, in a way that reminded him of the ‘sweet’ people out in Risembool who would call you endearments and coo at you all while thinking you were the biggest idiot in Amestris.

He hated those people. Which, to be fair, he didn’t really like anyone else any better.

Maybe Al was right. Maybe he was getting to be a shut-in.

“We’d love to,” Al accepted, not giving Ed time to say anything rude, leaving the elder brother sputtering. “We were just wondering how we were going to hunt down a hotel on such short notice. An extra day would be amazing.”

“Come on, then,” Hughes told them, his smile still eerily wide. “Come with me. I’ll show you pictures on the way, so you know who you’re meeting! You’ll love them. My darling daughter-...”

Ed watched the man start walking away, quickly followed by Al, and sighed. Looks like he was going to have to socialize, after all.

As he went to take a reluctant step, moving to follow the other two, he caught sight of something.

The tiniest wrinkle in fabric, just at Hughes’ back, marking an almost perfectly hidden weapon. A knife, probably - too flat to be a gun, too small to be anything exotic.

Ed’s eyes snapped across the length of Hughes’ military uniform, instantly on alert.

There, at the shoulder. There, at the calf. There again, a glint in the fabric of his boot.

At least four knives. Probably more.

Ed was right - this man wasn’t the goofball he was making himself out to be.

He’d only been in Central a few minutes, but he was already getting the sinking feeling that he was in over his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrival at the Hughes household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the timeline of this is set to start a lil earlier than canon BUT i made elicia still 3 because i just dont care and babies are BORING

Maes Hughes’ house was a generic sort of friendly suburban scene, and Edward was convinced it was just a painting on a cardboard sheet they’d propped up to hide the torture chambers right up until Maes unlocked the front door. 

If the house looked quaint and peaceful on the outside, the inside was downright eerie: stylish but subtle decorations, art hanging in the entry hall, a coat rack marking the place where everyone was to shuck their layers and their shoes, the whole nine yards. Even worse still, within the same second the door was unlocked, light footsteps started thunking their way toward them. Ed tensed immediately, shifting his weight so that his body was slightly in front of Al’s and moving to bring his hands together, only to feel ridiculous for doing so when a small child rounded the corner and slammed into Hughes’ knees. 

“Daddy!” the small pink mass yelled out, and Ed shot Al a glare for the barely concealed giggling that his panic had brought out. 

“Elicia, my darling girl!” Maes cried out, picking her up. “How is the light of my life, today?”

“I’ll paint that armor pink,” Ed threatened his brother, which only made Al’s laughter harder to stifle. 

That drew the little girl’s attention, and she turned wide green eyes on the brothers. “Oh! Daddy, daddy- who’re they?” 

Maes opened his mouth to reply, but Edward beat him to it, stepping up to look at the girl a bit closer. “I’m Ed,” he introduced. “And that’s my little brother, Al.”

“Little…?” Elicia looked between him and Al’s armor, and Ed bristled before she even said anything. 

“Yes,” he told her, trying to save it before she could make the comment he could  _ see  _ forming in her head. “He’s a year younger than me. He’s 25, and I’m 26.  _ I’m the oldest.”  _

She blinked, innocent and adorable. “But... you’re so little.”

Al’s hands dropped onto Ed’s shoulders and dragged him back a foot, all while Al talked over him to save the interaction. “Edward hates milk and won’t ever drink it, so his bones won’t grow. He’s still older than me, I promise.”

Maes’ eyebrows twitched a little bit toward furrowing up, and he gave a small hum that set Ed’s teeth on edge.

He knew what was standing out to the man. It was easy to forget, when Al was silent, because the armor was  _ huge,  _ but Al’s voice was most definitely that of a child. It hadn’t changed at all since he was ten, frozen in time within the blood seal on the inside of the chestpiece.

Maybe it was the whole ‘four hidden knives’ thing, but Ed really got the feeling that Hughes wasn’t someone he wanted digging into his history. Not that there was anyone who really  _ should  _ be digging into it. He could only hope that Mustang didn’t know what exactly was wrong with Al, or how exactly Ed had lost two limbs. 

Ed’s only saving grace was that all the evidence went down right alongside the rest of his house in that first fire, fifteen years ago.

He met Hughes’ eyes evenly, not letting anything show on his face. They watched each other in silence for a moment, and Ed was sure the man got the message: this was a question Ed was  _ never  _ going to answer.

“Well!” Maes said, launching back into that obnoxiously friendly tone and attitude. “I brought Ed and Al here home for dinner tonight, since they’re new to the city.”

“Oh, they came in?” another voice called, and all three men (and the small child) looked to the new arrival. 

Maes let out a sound that Ed wasn’t sure was human and launched forward, using the arm not holding his daughter to drag the woman into a hug. “Gracia!” he cooed, before leaning back and gesturing to his guests. “Meet Edward and Alphonse Elric.”

Ed gave a small, uncomfortable wave. 

“Hello, boys,” she greeted them. “I wondered when you’d come into town. Roy told us to keep an eye out months ago, and I’ve been curious to meet you since. He spoke very highly of you.”

Well, that was suspicious. “I talked to him for maybe five minutes,” Ed pointed out, trying to illustrate why he didn’t believe her for a second. “And I yelled at him for most of that.”

“So he said,” Maes replied, sounding close to laughter. “But apparently your reputation precedes you, and you’re some kind of alchemic genius. I’m afraid I’ll have to rely on his judgement, there, because I know nothing about you guys’ weird science at all.” 

Ed frowned, and watched silently as Maes followed Gracia into the kitchen, the two of them chatting and talking Al through a description of dinner options while Ed ignored them all. 

Edward  _ was  _ an alchemic genius, and he knew that. He was perfectly aware that he was a cut above the standard alchemists that the military would recruit, and even better, he operated outside of a niche. He didn’t pick one technique and stick to it, but adapted to situations as they came, which would make him a valuable resource in any situation.

_ Mustang  _ shouldn’t know that, though. There were plenty of people in Risembool who knew his talents, and there was enough gossip and word-of-mouth advertising bringing him business from all across southeast Amestris as people sought him out to fix problems other alchemists couldn’t quite manage. Delicate item repairs, tweaking faulty arrays, creating specialized locks or mechanisms based in alchemy, all that sort of stuff. Anything that required a good amount of scientific improvisation, he was the go-to guy for. But none of that stuff was really impressive, in Ed’s opinion. A freelance alchemist wasn’t exactly a common career choice, but the stuff he did wasn’t really noteworthy at all. The most impressive things he’d done in his life were extremely guarded secrets. 

What did Mustang know about him?

He was almost scared to ask. 

  
  
  
  


“One hundred and fifty centimeters,” Ed insisted. “Exactly.”

“With your boots on?” Al teased. 

Ed shot his brother a glare that promised bloodshed. “Bite me. I’m plenty tall!”

Everyone appeared to be holding back the urge to laugh, and Edward slumped in his chair at the table. 

“I regret coming here,” he whined. “I’m going back to Risembool, where everyone leaves me alone.”

“If you go home, Granny Pinako is gonna kick your butt,” Al told him. 

It was true, and Ed grimaced at the reminder. The old woman wasn’t a fan of the military, and even less a fan of Ed’s choice to join it, but she also hated when Ed gave up on things.

When he was younger, and didn’t have the ability to earn money off his alchemy yet (due to being an unknown child in the middle of nowhere), he’d tried a good number of things out for jobs. He made several aborted attempts to learn how automail worked enough to help around the shop, and while he did manage a passing knowledge of it, he had no skill for working with his hands. He could draw delicate lines of an array and pick apart the details of a transmutation, but physically putting his hands on something and fixing it was always just a bit out of his wheelhouse. It didn’t help that a good portion of that time was spent sans two limbs and plus a crippling depression, but Pinako had no sympathy for his constant quitting.

If he went back to Risembool, she’d tear him a new one and send him right back. She had no love for the military, but she had a complex about Ed’s commitments. 

Not that he was  _ really _ going to go back. He was, however, going to get revenge on his evil little brother at the soonest opportunity. 

If Elicia wasn’t  _ three,  _ he’d be on her too, for asking how tall he was in the first place. She was lucky he liked kids, honestly. 

“You lived with your grandmother in Risembool, then?” Gracia asked, probably trying to save Ed from the mass teasing. He liked her already. “Roy didn’t really tell us that much about you, personally.”

“She’s not  _ our  _ granny,” Edward clarified. “She’s our best friend’s grandma, but she’s Granny Pinako to everybody. Especially because Winry is basically our sister at this point, and she’s out in Rush Valley right now, so the old bat had no one else to fuss at.” 

“She’s been very good to us,” Al said, more softly and sincere than Ed’s casual rebuff. “She looked after us when our mom died.”

Gracia gave them a sympathetic look that made Ed’s skin crawl. “I’m so sorry. ...What about your-...?”

“Fuck him,” Ed interrupted immediately, before wincing, remembering the child sat across from him. “Sorry. Try not to repeat that, okay, Elicia? I say a lot of bad words.” 

Elicia gave a very polite, happy nod, and Ed ignored the look Gracia and Maes exchanged. 

Al was probably getting ready to explain, so Edward stopped him before he got the chance. “I’m not going to explain our life story, before you ask. I hate that guy, that’s all.” 

“Ed,” Al admonished. “Sorry about him. He hasn’t talked to anyone but me and Granny in years, so he’s forgotten how to be polite.” 

Ed couldn’t think of a response that was appropriate with a child present, so he shoved an oversized forkful of curry into his mouth and tried to chew in a way that didn’t make him look petulant. 

“Please tell me you’re exaggerating,” Maes said. To Ed, he asked, “When was the last time you talked to someone other than your family?”

Ed narrowed his eyes, did the math, and swallowed before answering, “I answered the door for Pinako when she was sick last fall? Before that, probably a good few years.”

Gracia and Maes were both staring at him with open horror, and he scowled.

“I don’t like people!” he defended. “I don’t  _ need  _ to talk to anybody. Anyone who is hiring me can go through Granny Pinako, and no one trusts me to do any shopping so I don’t run the errands. Granny and Al are always around, and I talk to Winry on the phone sometimes now that she’s not there anymore. That’s plenty.”

The eyes on him started to look almost  _ sad,  _ and Ed huffed out an irritated sigh. 

“Look,” he said. “I don’t talk to people entirely on my own. Granny tries to push me into talking to my clients or her’s all the time, I just don’t want to. Stop looking at me like that, I’m not being ignored or forced into solitude or anything. I just genuinely don’t like other people.”

“Have you always been that way?” Gracia asked. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just-...Well, a lot of people were like that after the war.”

Ed frowned. “Winry went to the fronts as a medic, with her parents, and they died. She got really withdrawn after that, and that’s why she moved. But I never went anywhere near the fighting, and had nothing to do with Ishval. The most I did was help a couple of refugees with their physical therapy at Granny’s.”

“I see,” Maes said. “Sorry, we were under the impression you were caught in the fighting at some point. Mustang said you’d likely lost your arm that way.”

Elicia perked up, suddenly tuning back in at that tidbit. “Big brother Ed lost an arm? But he’s got two!” 

Ed’s face twitched, but he obligingly pulled off his glove to show his automail hand. “I’m missing a leg, too,” he told her, and took the slightest satisfaction from her awed stare.

At least kids thought it was  _ cool,  _ and not just tragic. 

“Edward didn’t get hurt in the fighting,” Al told them. “He already had automail before the war broke out, actually.”

“Plague,” Ed said, deferring to the same bullshit that they told everyone in Risembool who asked. “My mom died from it, I lost two limbs, Al’s whole body got messed up.”

“I see,” Gracia said. “So that’s why you wear that armor?”

Al gave a nod, even though Ed knew he  _ hated  _ this cover story. “Ed made it, and that’s the only reason I’ve lived this long.”

“Yeah, well,” Ed said. “It’s not permanent. I’ll figure out how to fix it, one day. That’s what the military is for - I can research anything with military resources. Mustang said I could hunt down a solution that way.”

“Ah,” Maes hummed. “I wondered what he’d said to talk you into it. You don’t seem the type to be too interested in politics.” 

“Hell no,” Ed said. “I couldn’t care less about that crap. I’m joining the military because I need what they have, not because I believe in their agenda. If they try and kick off another war, I’m not just gonna play along.”

“In the military, you rarely have a choice,” Maes said. “You do what you’re told.”

Ed snorted. “I’ve never done that in my life. I’m not about to start now.”

Anyone who thought otherwise was in for a rude awakening. Edward Elric was no dog. The length of the leash they gave him wouldn’t matter - he could break it at any time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> allow me to offer a height comparison for ed and roy  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys explore Central a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really love ishvalans and especially ishvalan!ed aus so i through in some fuckery here to worldbuild and also set up future plot things
> 
> basically i didnt want to just rewrite the show scene for scene so i made some shit up to mix in

By the time Ed and Al finally retired to the guest room to sleep, Ed was ready to tear his hair out.

“Calm down,” Al told him. “You’ve been talking to people all day, so you’re irritated. Just go to bed. You don’t have to talk to anyone tomorrow, if you don’t want to. I can book a hotel room on my own.”

Ed flopped back onto the bed, glaring at the ceiling. “This was a terrible idea. Why’d I let that asshole talk me into this?” He glanced sideways at Al, then back up to the ceiling. “Don’t answer that. I know why, I’m just annoyed.” He threw an arm across his eyes, blocking out the light. “At least I can sleep now. Goodnight, Al.”

“Night, brother.”

Ed closed his eyes, listened to the faint  _ click  _ of Al turning the light off, and…

Nothing.

He waited, and waited, and didn’t fall asleep. 

Angered by his body’s betrayal, he sat up, glaring at the wall. “What the  _ fuck?”  _

Al sighed from where he sat in the corner, working his way through a book by lamplight. “You’ve never slept somewhere new before. Just try and rest, if you can’t fall asleep.”

Ed groaned, dropping back onto the sheets. “I hate this. Remind me to gut Mustang for dragging me here.”

“I won’t.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He could dream, though. Or, he could, if he could  _ fucking sleep.  _

Central was such a shithole, honestly. 

  
  
  
  


Ed passed up breakfast in the morning, even though he would have very much liked it, because there were only so many meals you could eat in front of a stranger before Al’s not eating became inexcusable. Maes tried to go with them, to show them around the city, but Edward turned down the offer and left with a promise to return for their input before selecting a hotel. 

Now, though, Ed was trying to figure out how to get out of that, because he didn’t know how much of the conversation he’d be able to bullshit before they caught on to the boys’ current problem.

“8,000 cenz per night,” Al sighed. “And that’s the cheapest we’ve found.”

The boys were...not exactly well-off, financially. The Rockbells tended to keep their prices low for the best interest of their customers, so they didn’t make near as much of a profit as most automail mechanics, and as such the boys had never felt comfortable freeloading off them completely. Ed had paid for each and every automail service he’d ever had, and that left little of his alchemy commission money for himself. 

Ed had all the money he currently owned  _ on his person,  _ which showed how little it was. He could afford maybe a week in a cheap motel, given Central’s massive price tag on  _ everything _ . That was without food, too, and Ed tended to eat a lot. Plus, any transportation they hired, any emergency services if something happened, if there were any fees he’d have to pay to take the test…

They were fucked. 

They sat side by side on a park bench, racking their brains for a solution. 

“I guess I’ll have to see if I can do any commissions in the downtime we’re here,” Ed said. “A couple days in a hotel, paid in advance, and we should be good to start working on stuff...right? Crap, does Central have any laws about that kind of stuff? That’s a thing, isn’t it? Restricting where and what you can sell? Man, why can’t I just spring up a shed somewhere and camp in it? Central sucks.”

“Well,” Al said. “You  _ could  _ do that, except that would make us squatters, and that’s not legal. Not unless you’re in a slum.”

A beat, and then the boys were looking at each other, both slowly forming the same (downright terrible) idea. 

  
  
  
  
  


Finding the slums was easy: Ed watched every important-looking business asshole marching about the city, and went in the one direction they were not going or coming from. Sure enough, the farther they went toward the edge of the city, the less fancy and populated the city became. Unfinished construction, worn down old buildings, few people in the streets - they were headed the right way.

“The slums are probably full of Ishvalans,” Al pointed out. “We’re alchemists. They won’t want us there.” 

“We’re also friends,” Ed reminded him, and lifted his wrist, tugging his sleeve back just a little to show the charm that hung off it.

“You’ve got that on you?” Al asked. “I didn’t think you actually wore it.”

“Of course I wear it,” Ed replied, almost offended at the insinuation he wouldn’t. “Just because I don’t believe in any religious crap doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what Maiara meant, giving this to me.” 

The charm around Ed’s wrist, hanging from a plain leather cord, was an Ishvalan prayer bead. When the first round of Ishvalan refugees ended up at Pinako’s, before Winry and her parents went to the front to be field medics, an older Ishvalan woman called  _ Maiara _ had ended up spending her final days in their care. 

She’d known she was dying, and had been rather ambivalent about it, claiming that she trusted Ishvala to guide her and her people to peace but couldn’t help hating the people who were doing this to them. 

Ed had understood feeling bitter. It was most of who he was, especially back then, when he was only a teenager. They’d bonded over spite, and the woman had tried her best to instil on Ed the faith that she held so close to her heart. If not for her god and full religion, for the future where mankind was at peace.

When it came time, she’d pressed her prayer bead into his hands, and begged him to wear it, as a reminder that not everything was as dire as it seemed at first. 

Ed was mostly hate and rage and bitter fury, but he knew she was right in thinking that he was better off without that. He may never return to the child he once was, may never be happy or even content, but he could try.

An Ishvalan prayer bead wasn’t something the people living in the slums would be expecting to see on the wrist of a non-Ishvalan, and he was hoping that would be enough to convince them to listen. He wouldn’t lie to them and tell them he wasn’t an alchemist, or tell them he followed their faith, but he  _ was  _ an ally if they wanted one. 

And probably if they didn’t, too, just because Ed thought the racial tension in Amestris was extremely stupid and they, as a society, had bigger problems than religious beliefs and skin colors. Like the shitty military force, and the fact that almost every citizen hated soldiers on principle. 

Ed grimaced, at that thought, because he was looking to  _ join  _ that military. Maybe he could get away without the uniform, so that he didn’t have to face so much outright spite. 

He could worry about that later, though - first, he had to get  _ into  _ the military, and to do that he had to take the test, and to take the test he’d need a place to stay in Central.

“We’re getting close,” Al murmured. “They’re watching us from the windows.”

Ed raised his eyes up to the higher windows of the apartment building they were passing, and caught a few eyes peeking from behind curtains. 

“Can you see the colors?” Ed asked, quietly. 

“Not red,” Al answered. “We’re not far enough in.” 

“We’re exactly far enough,” Ed countered, catching a glimpse of what he’d been waiting for. “Look.” 

The small figures peering out from a nearby ally startled, straightened, and turned to flee. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Ed called to them, pulling the charm off his wrist and holding it up in the air. “We’re friends. We’re just looking for a place to stay for a few days, that’s all.”

“Adsila! Awinita!” A woman called out, the tone clearly intended as scolding. The two children that had been watching the Elrics instantly ran back in the direction they came, calling back in Ishvalan as they went. 

A moment later, a man stepped out of the same alley, silver hair pulled up into a high bun on the back of his head and tired red eyes peering at them with heavy suspicion. 

“You two are  _ ghurayb _ ?” he asked. 

_ Ghurayb _ was a new term to Ed, and he shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It is the term for an outsider who shares our beliefs. If you are not ghurayb, then how did you get that charm?” he demanded. “If you stole it-...”

“I didn’t!” Ed insisted. “An Ishvalan woman gave it to me. Her name was Maiara.”

The man watched her for a second, before letting out a bitter-sounding laugh. “You know nothing, Amestrian,” he said. “ _ Maiara _ is not a name, but a title. Those in charge of teaching our history to the children take it upon themselves. Trying to lie only reveals your ignorance.”

“I’m not trying to lie,” Edward said. “I don’t know anything about your culture, and I’m not claiming to. But I know I knew that woman, and that she was called Maiara, and that she wanted me to learn about your religion so bad it nearly made her sick. I’m not interested in converting, so I’m not going to beg you for information there, but…” Ed ran a hand through his hair, finding his braid and picking at the loose strands starting to fray out of it. “There are things that you can’t get here, right? Stuff that you need that no one will sell you. We need to stay in the city for a while, and we don’t have a lot of options. If you’re willing to let us set up a camp in this area, we’ll do anything we can to pay you back for the kindness.”

The man tipped his chin up. “You do not need my permission to stay here. The area is open. Any soldier would happily step in between us and you, should our people threaten you. And yet, you ask.”

Ed nodded, and, in the interest of honesty, confessed. “We’re alchemists,” he said, and waited for the sneer to rise on the man’s face. “I wasn’t about to come into the only safe area you have in the city and force you to tolerate something that your people don’t believe in. We disagree on a lot of things, but I try to be respectful to everyone who is the same way to me.” 

The man watched them for a long moment, and Ed forced himself to hold the man’s eyes.

Finally, he let out a low breath. “I am Haider,” he introduced. “And one of the children is sick, with a bad fever. We cannot trust any doctors not to let her die. Get her the medicine she needs, and we will turn our eyes from your blasphemy for as long as you need sanctuary.” 

That was easy enough a favor. “I know a little basic medicine,” he said. “My friend tried pretty hard to train me to be a doctor, but I was never any good at it. I should be able to figure out what to get her, though, if I can see her first.” At Haider’s suspicious stare returning, Ed raised his hands in surrender. “Or just describe it to me as best you can, and I’ll guess. I would just feel better if I knew exactly what I was dealing with  _ before  _ I tried to fix it.” 

Haider shook his head. “I will not bring a person we do not know into our home. The girl both sweats and shivers, her muscles ache like she’s run for too long, and she can’t keep any food down.”

Ed rubbed at the back of his neck. “That doesn’t narrow it down very much. A lot of diseases come with nausea and muscle aches...is she tired a lot?” At Haider’s nod, he chewed his lip, thinking. “Did she eat or drink something different before she got sick?”

“Rainwater,” Haider said. “Several of the others that drank from it got sick, but only for a day.” 

“Well, shit,” Ed muttered. “The good news is I know what that probably is. The bad news is that’s  _ cholera _ , which is...not great. She’ll need antibiotics, or it’ll get worse until it kills her.” Ed rocked back on his heels. “The question is, where can I get antibiotics without an actual doctor?” He thought, then snapped his fingers, slamming a fist into an open palm as the idea hit him. “Got it. Gimme about an hour, and I’ll get some herbs and try and make some tea for her. If she drinks a cup about twice a day, it should kill the bacteria.” 

At least, he hoped. If not, he was not above robbing a pharmacy. Or, as a last resort, he could try and make a medication on his own through questionable alchemy, but that was both dangerous and highly frowned upon by both Ishvalans and sensible scientists. Some things were best left to professionals, regardless of convenience. 

He turned to leave, already thinking back to the streets they’d walked earlier to try and remember a place he could buy medicinal herbs, when Haider called out,  _ “Wait.” _

Ed turned, raising an eyebrow. “What is it? Oh, right - my name’s Ed.” He jerked a thumb toward his brother. “This is Al.”

“Thank you, Ed,” Haider told them. “Even if you cannot help the girl, you have shown a better heart than most by approaching us openly as equals. You are not  _ ghurayb,  _ but you share our spirit for peace, and we will welcome you when you return.”

Ed gave a slightly nervous laugh, tugging at his braid again. “Ah, don’t start thanking me yet! I’m serious when I say I was bad at medicine. I’m gonna try my best, but I may end up just having to blackmail a doctor into coming down here.” That, or call Winry, but Ed would honestly rather risk going to jail by breaking into a pharmacy than explain what he was doing to Winry over the phone.

She was already going to kill him for running off to join the military and not telling her. In hindsight, maybe avoiding hotels - and any other space with a working phone line - was a good move. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ed is very awkward and very unsure of how human beings are supposed to work   
> chemical makeup of the human body to the gram? sure  
> regular social interaction? whA T HTE F UC K


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making friends, and...others.

“I feel so bad for this girl,” Ed muttered, as he waited for Al to choose a bulb of garlic that was fresh enough to still have active antibiotics in its oils. “This tea is gonna be so gross.” 

“I wonder if I should miss gross things, too,” Al mused. “Should I put something nasty on my list? Just to remember?”

“You have, like, three things of dairy products on there,” Ed reminded him. “That’s already gross.”

“You’re the only one that thinks that, brother.”

Ed scratched at his nose. “You know, taste buds change all the time. I wonder if yours will be different. Heh, maybe we’ll accidentally mix it up and give you mine, and then  _ you  _ can know how gross milk actually is.”

Al’s expressionless helmet still somehow managed to appear entirely unimpressed.

“Oh, oh, look at this,” Ed stepped a few paces to the side, leaving the vegetables of the shop behind to look at a rack of newspapers. Right on the front was a big, ugly picture of the very man who’d sent them to Central in the first place: Roy Mustang. 

“Huh,” Al said, walking up behind his brother. “‘Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang receives promotion following takedown of serial killer Barry the Chopper.’ I see, so he’s a Colonel now.”

“Good!” Ed said. “The higher up he is, the better chance I have to dodge actual military work.”

“You think he won’t make you?”

Ed stuck his tongue out. “He can try! I’ll beat him into the ground. His only tricks are fire, right? That’s easy enough to beat.” 

“You’re very arrogant, aren’t you?”

Ed turned lazily to look at the speaker: a young woman, beautiful and bordering predatory, sizing him up with half-lidded eyes. 

“The Flame Alchemist is said to be one of the strongest state alchemists,” she said. “And you think you could take him?”

Ed resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because it  _ would  _ sound like some self-important hubris to a random civilian. “He wears his transmutation circle on the back of his glove. It’s right there in that picture. All I have to do is ruin it, and he’s useless.”

“An interesting approach,” the woman said. “Most people would just pour water on him.”

Ed blinked, slowly processing that. “...He can’t atomize water?”

The woman tipped her head and raised an eyebrow, which somehow managed to look condescending even though she was the one who didn’t follow.

“Turning water to steam,” Ed explained. “Or any kind of mist, really. It’s a basic transmutation. You don’t even have to change the chemical makeup of the water, just the temperature. No way he works with elements that much and doesn’t know that.” 

The woman gave him a slow, wicked smile. “I see what he meant, now. You are a bit of a shit.” 

Edward recoiled a bit, stunned. “‘He’? Who? Are you- have you been  _ following  _ me?” 

“Yes,” she admitted, entirely shameless. “Call me Amelie, darling. I’m a... friend of a friend. I wanted to know who exactly it was Roy was sending our way.” 

“You’re a spy,” Ed summarized.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” she said. “I’m much worse.”

She reached out, tapping a long, manicured nail under his chin.

“I’ll be seeing you around, I think. The Madame will like you.”

She strolled out of the store casually, as though she hadn’t just admitted straight out to Ed that he was being stalked in the city by supposed allies.

He didn’t have time to look into it, though. They had a little girl to help. 

“Come on, Al,” Ed said. “Let’s head back. I think we’ve got everything we need, here.”

“We’re not going after her?” Al asked.

Ed shook his head. “Not right now. She said she’d see us again, so we’ll worry about her then. Right now, that girl needs us, and the sooner we help her, the better.”

  
  
  
  
  


Haider must have taken their basket full of herbs as a sign they were being honest, or he simply was desperate enough not to care, because he lead them straight into the heart of the Ishvalan community in the slums. 

There was a ruined block of crumbling apartments that were patched closed with tent material, creating an ugly-but-liveable level of decrepit. In one of the larger rooms on the main floor - because all the apartments were basically just rooms, at this point, too heavily deteriorated to have firm privacy lines between them - they had a little girl stretched out on a moth-eaten couch. 

If the Ishvalans weren’t opposed to alchemy, Ed would fix up the whole building in a heartbeat. The idea that the society of Central was so fucked as to allow human beings - allow  _ children -  _ to live in such poor conditions was maddening. 

As it was, he hoped that none of the younger ones gathered spoke enough Amestrian to start mimicking the string of swears that he was muttering under his breath. 

Honestly, when he got into the military, they better never ask him to willingly put up with this kind of outright bigotry. 

“You’re shaking, brother,” Al whispered to him, laying his hands over Ed’s and slowly coaxing the stone and bowl they were using as a mortar and pestle away from him. 

Ed surrendered it, letting Al finish crushing up what they needed. “I’m just…” he huffed out an irritated breath. “They had to bargain their safety and peace for a little girl to have a  _ chance,  _ Al. That’s...that’s so beyond fucked up.” 

“They’ve done worse,” Al reminded him.

Ed winced. “Yeah, they have. And they will again, if they get half an excuse to. Remind me to yell at someone about that while we’re in the military headquarters, will you?”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Yeah,” Ed sighed. “I didn’t figure.”

An Ishvalan woman approached them, holding a rugged looking iron pot that was letting of a low steam.

“Ah, thank you,” Ed said, taking the boiled water from her. “Al?”

“Got it,” he said, and then took to scraping the herbs into the water. 

“We’re going to make it into a tea,” Ed explained to Haider. “We’ll have to cool a cup of it down, so that she can drink it now without burning herself, but then the rest of it she can drink warm. It’ll make it a little harder to taste it, at least, because it’s gonna be gross.” 

“Do what you have to,” Haider said. “And tell us what you need us to.”

“Right now? I need you to trust me.” Ed rolled up his sleeves. “Because someone needs to hold her head back, and her mouth open. She’s too weak for me to try and get her to drink it herself, so we’ll have to force it down. ...Are you okay with a tiny transmutation? This would be easier with-...”

“Do what you must.”

Ed nodded, and moved quickly, pulling the loose, broken handle off of the water pot and transmuting it quickly into a thin, needle-less metal syringe. Sucking the tea up into it and shooting it down her throat would be much easier than trying to find a way to make sure she drank it rather than choke on it. 

The flash of alchemic energy made the Ishvalans present back up even further, retreating to hiding halfway behind furniture or broken architecture to watch Ed work. Which suited Edward just fine, really, because he was starting to feel crowded with so many people around. 

The girl on the couch couldn’t have been more than ten, and he could see the bones of her cheeks beneath almost paper-thin brown skin. He wanted to torch the city to the ground for making her live like this. 

_ Medicine, then food,  _ Ed told himself.  _ Blankets and clothes, too. How much money can I make from alchemy commissions before the exams? Enough to-...? _

“Brother.”

“Yeah,” Ed replied. “I know.”

Now wasn’t the time to get lost in planning ahead. He had a girl to try and heal. 

  
  
  
  
  


“You’re up late.”

Maes looked up, turning to meet his wife’s eyes. “Ah, sorry. I just can’t stop thinking.”

“It’s about those men, isn’t it?” Gracia asked. “They never came back, even though they said they would.” 

“I didn’t expect them to,” Maes confessed. “They were guarded, those two. They’re not used to trusting other people, and it shows. Anyone else, and I would have had trouble believing they’d not spoken to anyone in literal years, but...with Edward, it’s almost indisputable. He strikes me as the kind who is slow to trust even himself, let alone others.”

“He didn’t sleep, last night,” Gracia said. “His brother didn’t, either. I heard them talking to each other when Elisa crawled into our bed in the middle of the night.”

“I’d have been surprised if they did.” Maes tipped his head back, sighing as he watched the ceiling fan spin in a slow circle. “Edward never took his eyes off me, the whole way here yesterday. And he never let his guard down, even at dinner. He was always tense, always ready to run if he had to.”

“When Elisa ran to him, he flinched,” Gracia added. “I was watching from the kitchen window. He moved like he was about to be attacked, but her footsteps aren’t even that heavy. Most people wouldn’t have thought anything of a sound that light - if they didn’t pin it as a child immediately, a cat is a better guess than an assassin.”

“My guess is that neither one would make a difference,” Maes said. “To those boys, everyone is a threat. They’ve taken ‘ _ us against the world’  _ a bit more seriously than most.”

“And Roy wants them in the military? Is that smart?”

“Eh,” Maes said, changing his tone to be more light-humored. “It’s Roy, so probably not. But he has his heart set on getting these two on his team, and so they’ll probably be stuck with him anyway.” He winked at Gracia. “His aunt is keeping an eye on them for me, though.”

Gracia let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. They’re safe, then?”

“Apparently they’re making friends in the southern backstreets.”   
Gracia’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “The slums?”

“That’s what she told me.”

Gracia let out a low laugh. “Well, the paranoid would feel safest with the persecuted, I suppose.” 

“They’re gonna shake up things a lot, I can already tell.” Maes stood, holding out a hand to his wife. “Well, me staying up worrying about won’t change anything. Let’s go to bed, hm? We’ll leave the freaky scientists to sort themselves out.”

Hopefully, he wouldn’t regret that. Maybe Roy’s gamble would pay off, after all.

  
  
  
  
  


“She’s awake!” 

Ed let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Good, good,” he breathed, as Haider approached his spot against the wall.

The Ishvalan that had called out was soon swarmed with others coming to see the child, to verify his claims and rejoice in her improving health, and Ed gave them a wide berth. 

“You keep your distance from your own miracles,” Haider observed. “An odd choice.”

“There are no miracles,” Ed said, tone only missing bitter by how utterly dry it was. “That was just science, and a bit of luck.”

“What you call luck, we call divine will,” Haider countered. “Name it what you like, it was present here today. Present in  _ you.  _ We are in your debt.”

Edward waved a hand dismissively at the man. “No, you don’t. Like I said, we’re just looking to stay someplace a few days.”

“You did not do this for the reward,” Haider argued. “I heard you speaking to your brother. I heard you mutter under your breath about injustice. You care for my people.”

“Alchemy is built on the principle of equivalent exchange,” Ed said. “There’s no exchange, here. They take everything from you and give you nothing back. How many people have died, here, of sickness like this? Stuff that takes only basic medical training to fix? There is nothing in the world that matches the value of a human life. You’ve spent so many for  _ nothing.  _ It’s....”

“You see the world clearly, alchemist.” Haider watched him, openly curious. “You could teach the government of this country much.”

Ed felt guilt stir in him, and he acted on the impulse it gave him. “You should know, I’m in town because of them. I’m taking the certification exam.”

Haider flinched back. “You, who speaks of justice? You are giving your life to those... _ beasts _ ?”

“My brother needs things I can't get anywhere else,” Ed explained. “I don't approve of a single thing the military has done in twenty years, but I’m out of options. If I don't fix Al soon, he will die. I've barely been keeping him stable.”

Haider’s face was stone. “I see.” He reached out, gently setting his fingers against Ed’s wrist- landing against the prayer bead that he'd returned to its resting place there. “You are not a believer, but would pray with you regardless. You walk into the lion’s den - may you walk unharmed, so you may save the sheep they sacrifice.”

“I don't need your god to do anything for me. If they put me in a position where I can make a difference for your people, I'll take it, but because it's right. Not because of faith in God - because of faith in  _ people _ .”

“You are a good man, alchemist,” Haider said. 

“Be thou for the people,” Ed quoted. “Some of us haven't forgotten that. That's all.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added some ship tags ;) i love my lesbian mechanics

“I’m sorry we don’t have more to offer.”

Ed waved off the Ishvalan woman -  _ Amna _ , her name was - who had been tasked with helping them find a place to settle. “No, no, don’t worry about it. Like I said, we’re alchemists. We’ll fix up a broken space and be fine, we just have to get somewhere where we can.”

“There are ruined apartments in the back of this building,” she said. “No one goes back there, so you’d be undisturbed and free to do your alchemy without disturbing the others.”

Ed nodded, and Al tipped his large metal head to one side, considering.

“You don’t seem bothered by us being alchemists,” he observed. 

Amna shook her head. “I am faithful to Ishvala, but I do not believe alchemy is wrong. I have heard stories, read things, about people who have tried to do too much with alchemy and been harmed in the process. I believe that is Ishvala, drawing the line on where mortal men are allowed to tred. If he does not interfere with the art of creation, or the gift of life, what harm is there in helping the world improve? Many of my people believe that alchemy is the power of Ishvala himself, and that men simply try to use it without properly understanding it, but that always sounded wrong to me. I say instead that Ishvala gifted some of those in the world he made with the ability to keep it alive. He created people to be his hands, so that all would be within his reach.” 

“Does anyone else here believe that?” Ed asked. “I didn’t even consider that there would be Ishvalans who didn’t hate alchemy.” 

“We are few in number, but growing,” the woman said. She reached up, tucking a string of silver hair behind her ear to reveal a chain that wrapped around her upper ear, anchored to an earing. “Look for this, and you will find friends. We have them made by alchemists, but they bear the symbols of Ishvala. A blasphemy where the other are concerned, but for us, a sign that we can coexist.” 

“Thank you, Amna,” Alphonse said. “We appreciate your help.”

“And we, yours,” she returned. “...The girl. Her name is Nazli. Her mother has listened to me in the past, though she doesn’t wear our charms. I suspect she will be more willing to listen now that an alchemist has saved her daughter’s life, which means that both of them should open their hearts to understanding. You make a difference, alchemist, every time you choose to be a good man. Remember this.”

Ed nodded, and Amna’s shoulders relaxed as though she’d been worried he wouldn’t listen to her. 

“Good,” she said. “Now, I will show you to the rubble, so that you may clear it. Please be careful, though - we avoid it for a reason. This building was scheduled to be demolished, before it was abandoned and ‘gifted’ to us. We don’t know if there are any explosives still in the areas we couldn’t reach.” 

“Not a problem,” Ed promised. “Al and I shouldn’t need to get too far into it to start fixing it up, and clearing the space will make it easy to see anything left behind. I wouldn’t stick around, though, just in case. With my luck, I’d forget you were there completely.” 

She took his words to heart, it seemed, because she cleared out quickly after seeing them into the right area, leaving Ed and Al to sort it out on their own. Ed cracked the knuckles of his flesh hand and pulled off his coat, getting ready to set in on their alchemic construction.

_ A place to stay,  _ he told himself.  _ First we get a safe space, then we get to work.  _

Central was disgusting and vile, and Ed wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. The sooner he could take the entrance exam, the better.

  
  
  
  
  


“You  _ what?!” _

Ed winced, holding the phone a bit away from his ear. From out the corner of his eye, he watched Gracia stifle a laugh.

_ Let her laugh, _ he thought. Winry would have her house phone number, now. They’d be getting harassed for updates just like Granny used to. 

“They have resources I need,” Ed defended himself. “The research I could do-...”

“You can shove your research, you stupid bookworm!” Winry yelled at him. “You’re going to have to do what they tell you. Even if it’s wrong, if they say you have to do something, you  _ do.  _ You’re really okay with that?”

“For Al?” Ed countered. “Hell yes. Whatever it takes.”

There was a pause through the phone line, and then a deep sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just..”

“Trust me, I know,” Ed said. “I’ve been staying in the slums, where every Ishvalan in the city has been backed into. If there’s ever a thing that would make you hate this country’s military, that’s it. I helped them set up a water purifier on my second day, and you’d think I gave them a billion cenz instead of a cheap charcoal filter. Al is gonna have to hold me back at some point in all this, or I’m gonna slug somebody.”

“Please try not to get arrested,” Winry said. “They’ll take away your automail, and my hard work shouldn’t be wasted like that.”

“I’m so glad you care.”

“Mm. You should, it’s an honor. Me still worrying about you, after all you’ve put me through?” 

Ed grimaced at the reminder. Edward’s history with Winry was extensive, but the part she referenced with that statement was her favorite point to joke about: the brief period of time where, as teens, they’d  _ attempted  _ to date. 

The ultimate verdict was that Ed was unable to move past his desperate need for redemption and his obsession with healing his brother, and that Winry was better off leaving him to sort out his own mess of a life without trying to drag him into the real world. 

(It hadn’t helped that Edward hadn’t really be  _ interested  _ as much as he was  _ unopposed -  _ he hadn’t really wanted a relationship, but it had seemed at the time like one of those inevitable things. Friends turning to girlfriends turning to wives- that was how the world worked, wasn’t it?

He was kind of glad he was wrong. Winry deserved a lot better than his half-assed commitments.)

“Speaking of your bad life choices,” Ed said. “How’s Paninya?” 

“Oh, that’s right!” Winry’s voice sounded suddenly very enthusiastic, and Ed was half expecting a full twenty minute lecture on some new automail improvement. 

Instead, he got something much different.

“Do you wanna be a dad?”

Ed choked. “Do I  _ what?” _

“You heard me!” She laughed on the other end of he line, even though Ed didn’t really see anything  _ funny  _ about whatever joke she was pulling. “I’m serious. Satella and Ridel are talking about having a baby, and it got us started on it. I think we’d be good moms, don’t you? But we’d need a bit of help getting there.”

Ed blanched. “I’m not gonna-...!”

“Not like that!” Winry scolded. “I’m not trying to share my wife with you, you ass. There are plenty of ways to get around  _ that.” _

“I dunno, Winry,” Ed said, eyes shifting around the room, checking the faces of the others around him to make sure no one was overhearing Winry’s side of the call. “That’s a bit of a tall order.”

“Think about it,” she said. “It wouldn’t be any time soon, anyways. I just asked you, because...you’re family, Ed. You always have been, and you always will be.” Before Ed could get fully choked up about  _ that,  _ she ruined it, caring on with, “Plus, your hair and skin look a lot like mine, so between you and Paninya we’d have a kid that actually looks like she’s ours!”

“I can’t picture Paninya pregnant,” Ed admitted.

“Yeah,” Winry sighed. “Me neither. The weight distribution would mess with her legs, so she’d need to be bedridden or in a wheelchair, and she’d hate that. Our poor child will have to go without her beautiful dark features and put up with my looks instead.”

“Good,” Ed muttered. “That keeps you from risking letting Paninya’s personality get passed on.”

“I will board a train to Central to come knock you out, Edward Elric.”

“That’s my cue to hang up, I think,” Ed replied. “I’ll talk to you later, Winry.”

“Bye, Ed,” she replied. “Update me if you’re gonna do something stupid, be nice to your automail, and...for the record? You’d be a good dad.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

Winry laughed on the other end of the line. “Goodbye, jerk.”

Ed hung up the phone, shaking his head. “That woman is crazy.”

“Did I hear something about Paninya being pregnant?” Al asked, voice just as flabbergasted as Ed’s had been when Winry asked. “Don’t tell me…?”

“How would she be pregnant, dumbass?” Ed asked. “We took baths with Winry when we were little kids, we know what she’s working with. They’re just..talking about it.”

“Really?” Al asked in quiet awe. “That would be amazing. They’d be really good moms.” 

Edward tried to picture Paninya with a child, and instead just pictured a younger version of the woman herself, which was...horrifying. 

Winry had first visited Rush Valley when she was eighteen, and met Paninya when the dirty thief tried to pickpocket her and got laid out on her ass by an annoyed Winry Rockbell. 

They’d befriended each other, and Winry convinced Paninya to change her thieving ways in for a more honest lifestyle. 

After Winry’s parents died, in the war, Winry moved to Rush Valley permanently. It was less than a year before she informed everyone her and Paninya were an item, and two years from then they’d gotten married.

Paninya and Edward had never really gotten along...probably because she’d assumed he was Winry’s kid brother when they first met, and shamelessly justified the misconception based on how short Ed was.

Still, Winry’s wife was a decent enough person, and their workshop in Rush Valley was one of the most famous he city had to offer. Winry took automail orders from all over the country, and Paninya could fix anything  _ other  _ than limbs. Picturing them with a child was a bit strange, because the last time the Elrics had visited, Ed had watched Paninya drink a cup of motor oil and not realize it  _ wasn’t _ the coffee that she’d been aiming for until halfway through it. 

“Winry said it would be a while before they did anything, if they decided to,” Ed told his brother. After a moment of deliberation, he added, “She asked if I’d…. _ donate _ , I guess.”

“Wow,” Al breathed. “Oh, man. I wish I could help. Babies are amazing.” 

“Babies?” Ed looked up to see Maes coming in the room, pausing next to them on his way toward Gracia. “Is someone having a kid?”   
“My friend’s thinking about it,” Ed confirmed. “Man, I guess we’re getting kind of old, huh? I guess it’s a good thing I’m finally trying to  _ do _ something.”

“Thank you for letting us use your phone,” Al said, stepping in where Ed’s social graces failed. “Winry would have been really mad if we didn’t tell her before we did anything, and we’ve already been in town for a week.”

“That reminds me,” Maes said. “Roy boarded a train this morning. He’s on his way up for the exams.” 

“Woo!” Ed punched the air. “Finally, we’re getting somewhere! If I fix one more broken pot, I’ll go crazy.”

“The people have appreciated having an alchemist for hire around,” Maes told them. “Most everyone around here with alchemic talent is military or military contracted. It’s hard to find people to do the smaller things when they’re all tied up in the big stuff.”

“It’s all alchemy,” Ed said, shrugging. “I prefer making things up as I go, but little repairs and stuff can be fun, too. Besides, it’s given me plenty of time to help out the people in the slums.”

“I’m sure they appreciate you, too.” Maes pat Ed’s shoulder, grinning down at him. “I’ve already heard a lot of rumors starting up about a strange Amestrian man that keeps buying things in bulk to take down to the poorer side of town. A gold-eyed angel, some are saying.”

Ed grimaced. “Gross. I’m not an angel, I’m just a person. I wouldn’t need to do this stuff if people were  _ decent _ .” 

“But you do,” Gracia interjected. “And that’s admirable. Just accept it, Edward.”

The man looked highly bothered by the scrutiny, and Maes’ gut churned unhappily at the expression. 

_ He hates himself,  _ Maes couldn’t help but note.  _ I don’t know why, but for some reason, this man is convinced he’s the worst scum of the earth.  _

_ Roy Mustang, just what have you drug up, with this one? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> roy should turn up in the next chapter if the timeline works out alright...im so ready to write my trash son into this


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy arrives in Central.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at last, the garbage son arrives

“The Elrics have been in the city for a while now, you said?”

Roy hummed a confirmation, thumbing through his newspaper. “So Maes tells me.”

Riza watched him for a moment though narrowed eyes. “You still think this is a good idea?”

“I didn’t think it was a good idea when I invited him out here,” Roy said. “But he was the only alchemist we sought out that wasn’t a bust. If he’s half as good as the rumors claim, I want him on my team.”

“That’s another thing I don’t understand,” she said. “I never heard anything spectacular, when we asked around about him. The records said he was a powerful alchemist, but I no one ever told a story of anything particularly impressive. He was just a minor freelancer. He did basic repairs.”

Roy shook his head, and set the newspaper aside, devoting his full attention to the conversation at hand. “The first person we asked about him. That famer, from the bar at the edge of the town? Do you remember what he said?”

“Just that nobody ever sees him anymore,” she recalled. “How he used to come out and help them with shop repairs, but he stopped even leaving his house.”

“When he was talking about the repairs, he said something odd,” Roy said. “He said that he would have taken note of the arrays Edward used to fix things, to get someone else to help, but Ed never wrote them down.”   
“Come to think of it,” Riza thought back, hand resting against her chin as she racked her brain for the memory. “He did say that, didn’t he? How could a man study alchemy without ever taking notes - that’s what you’re confused about, right?”

“Not completely.” Roy pulled his glove out of his pocket, stretching out the material to show Riza. “Alchemy  _ requires  _ a circle to be drawn in order to work. Alchemy where you never make a mark is unheard of. Somehow, he’s found a way to conceal the arrays he uses. The stories we heard never mentioned any great deeds, but what they did say was enough to know this: Edward Elric is skilled at improvised field alchemy. He creates his own arrays for each situation he comes across. He is capable of concealing the marks he makes, somehow. Finally, the only thing that matters to him at this point is his brother’s health.” Roy steepled his fingers. “I don’t know what his limits are, or what his style is, but I know it has to be good. That’s enough for me.”

“What if he turns out to be a bigger problem than anything?”

Roy hummed again, this time considering. “I have Aunt Chris watching out. Apparently he’s an idiot who rants about beating up the military while he’s out grocery shopping, or something. Somehow, even if he doesn’t like my methods, I doubt he’ll disapprove of my ideals.”

“You’re hoping he likes you enough to do what you want anyway,” Riza translated. “That’s a gamble.”

“It’s the only way to proceed,” Roy said. “I can’t get anywhere without taking risks.”

“If you say so,” Riza replied. “Let’s just hope this one doesn’t kill you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Over here! Roy!  _ Rooooy _ !”

Roy sighed. “He’s waving like an idiot.”

“Wave back,” Riza prompted him. “You'll want him happy, so you can grill him for information on the brothers.”

Fair enough, he figured, and sent a weak wave back to his best friend as they crossed the train platform. 

“Thanks for meeting us, Maes,” Roy said, when they were close enough. “Where are the Elrics?”

“Oh, that's the fun part,” Maes said, grinning wickedly. “I asked you to dress in civilian clothes for a reason. We’re going to visit them.”

Mustang frowned. He couldn't think of any reason his uniform would get him in trouble...unless…

“He  _ isn't _ ,” Roy said, as he caught on. 

“He sure is,” Maes replied. “Come on, stay close. You're gonna love this.”

  
  
  
  
  


Edward Elric, when Roy met him, had been a mess. He'd clearly been crying, his face was red and his nose was running, and all he did was yell. 

Roy had known the man would look differently when better composed, but this was something else. 

He was in a black tank top, hanging loose over his automail shoulder, muscles flexed as he lifted what appeared to be a _solid steel_ _beam_ over his head. 

“Is that good?” he asked, and the other brother - in actual  _ armor _ , of all things - replied with an affirmative before moving to weld the beam into place. When it was apparently deemed secure, Edward moved away, pushing sweat-soaked golden hair out of his face and back toward the messy bun that took the place of his usual braid. 

They were repairing homes in the slums. Not with alchemy, but with determination and hard labor. Edward’s face was flushed just like before, except it wasn’t in emotion but  _ exhaustion,  _ suggesting they’d clearly been working on this project for a good while. Roy couldn’t help taking in all the features he’d missed, before - like the fact that the man’s gold coloring extended past his hair and eyes into the faint tan across his skin.

Maes’ laughter came up quietly beside him, and Roy turned a scowl on his friend. “What?”

“You’re so screwed,” Maes said. “Even if his alchemy isn’t as great as you think it is, he could probably bench press you.” 

Roy agreed he was probably going to regret this, but for a completely different reason, as he watched Ed stretch his arms over his head, making his tank top ride up a little to show a stripe of his stomach. 

When he wasn’t a complete emotional wreck, Edward was... _ pretty _ . 

Unfortunate. 

“Lieu- um, Mr. Hughes?”

Roy turned to see the one in armor - presumably Alphonse Elric - approaching Maes. 

The censorship of military titles was probably a good move, but clearly not good  _ enough  _ for Ed, who spun to face their way the second his brother spoke. 

“Hey, bastard!” he called out. “If you wanted to talk to us, we were heading to dinner with Hughes anyway. You didn’t have to come out here and risk starting shit.”

An Ishvalan woman poked her head out from behind the crumbled wall they’d been working on, looking concerned. “Edward?”

Ed waved her off. “I’m gonna get these guys out of the district before someone recognizes them. Are you guys good to put this off until tomorrow?”

“ _ Edward _ ,” the woman admonished. 

“I know, I know! This really should have been done yesterday with the other one. I promise I’ll finish it up as soon as I can. I can probably get it up tonight, when I get back, if I stay up a little later-...”

“Edward.”

“But it’ll be a little harder because I won’t be able to make a lot of noise, or I’ll wake everyone up, and that means I’ll be doing everything completely by hand-...”

“Edward!” 

Ed paused mid rant, looking wide-eyed and guilty to the Ishvalan. “Yeah?”

“You’re  _ fine,”  _ she said, patting his shoulder. “You’ve already done far more than we could ever ask for. Do too much more, and I’m marrying you to one of my daughters.” 

Ed flushed, and if Roy thought he was good looking  _ before _ , he was truly fucked now, because he was  _ adorable.  _ “Oh. Uh, sorry. Right. I’m gonna…” He gestured vaguely toward Mustang.  “Get rid of this mess.”

“Hey!” Roy exclaimed, offended, only to be silenced by Maes’ hand being carefully set over his mouth. 

“Just go with it,” Maes told him, quietly. “It’s not like he’s wrong.”

Well, he supposed that was fair. 

Ed headed their way, scooping up his outer shirt and coat as he went, and started steering them out of the district. 

“Do me a favor,” he said, as they neared the standard areas of the city. “And don’t come visit us in  _ groups.  _ A group of Amestrians showing up this far out rarely means good things. And if that weren’t enough, you don’t even have to be in uniform for you to practically radiate  _ military _ .” Ed looked Roy over. “Mostly you,” he said. “Maes is almost normal.” 

Roy shook his head in disbelief at the casual rebuff. “It shouldn’t matter long, anyway,” he said. “Pass the test and I’ll be dragging you East City with me.”

“About that,” Ed said. 

Roy eyed him with concern. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

“No, no,” Ed waved him off. “Nothing like that. Just...if I’m under your command, what am I  _ actually  _ gonna be doing?”

“Most likely? Field missions to keep the peace in smaller areas,” Roy said. “We get reports of rogue alchemists stirring up trouble a lot, so you’ll most likely be who we send to police those.” 

Ed scrunched up his nose. “So I’m the garbage collector.”

“Basically, yes.” 

“Fine,” Ed said. “Just making sure no one would expect me to do anything majorly shitty- you know, like almost everything the military does.”

“ _ Brother _ ,” Alphonse scolded. To Roy, he offered the apology of, “Sorry, he’s never had to be polite in his life.”

“I’d rather he was honest with me upfront, actually,” Roy said. “Until the day of the exam, which is when the military posturing starts. But for right now, as a civilian, I want to know your opinions.” He considered the risk of speaking further for a moment, and then gave in to the urge to ask what was on his mind. “I’m assuming you don’t like the tensions with Ishvalans?” 

“Oh, you mean where an entire group of people are forced to live in actual ruins, because people won’t let them in the city?” Edward gave a bitter, sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, no, that’s great. It’s really inspiring.”

“The war was devastating,” Roy said. “People have long memories, and old grudges are hard to let go of.”

Ed actually  _ stopped,  _ rounding on Roy with the same angry look he’d gifted him back in Risembool, when he’d dared to mention Alphonse. “My best friend,” he said, voice like steel, “was a frontline medic in the war. They weren’t allowed to communicate with anyone, but she smuggled out a letter on one of her patients to send to me, to tell me that her parents had been  _ murdered _ because they didn’t pick a side. There was blood on the paper, Mustang, and her handwriting looked like she’d pulled it off a typewriter, so I know that she must have been holding her pen with both hands to keep it from shaking. So if she can see all that, go through that, and then come home and look both Ishvalan refugees and Amestrian soldiers in the eye without wanting to scream, then everyone else in this damn country can suck it up, too.”

Maes’ hand dropped down hard on Roy’s shoulder, and the gentle pressure pulled Roy back a step - getting him out of Ed’s line of fire, presumably. 

“I’m sorry for what your friend went through,” Maes said, and Roy knew him well enough to hear the genuine guilt and remorse just barely hidden in his voice. “But this isn’t a trauma that will be sorted out with a fight on a street corner. Even if he’s not one to say it openly, Roy agrees with you, trust me. As far as I’ve seen, your morals are surprisingly similar, even if your methods are a bit at odds.” 

Ed gave Roy a narrow-eyed stare that made him feel very much the same way he did under a military superior’s gaze: like he was being assessed, judged, and categorized in someone else’s mind for their own plans, and Roy had missed his opportunity to make any sort of different impression that the face he’d shown to that point. 

All he could hope was that Ed was judging him based on Maes’ statement in his defense, and not the stunned silence that he’d met the boy’s rant with.

Edward Elric was a firecracker in the worst of ways, and Roy seemed to be particularly effective at setting him off, because each of the two times they’d met had ended with Roy being yelled at about something.

Which, to be fair, Roy had not exactly been on good ground either of those times. He’d been openly manipulative the first time, not caring what he had to do or say to get the man to listen, and now the topic was Ishval, the source of almost every skeleton in his closet. 

If Roy had to judge himself from Ed’s point of view, he wouldn’t like himself much, either. 

Without warning, Edward spun back around, hunching his shoulders and resuming his walk toward the Hughes’ house. “Whatever,” he muttered, sounding a bit like a sullen teenager. “I was just checking. I didn’t want to have to deck you the first day I worked for you, or anything.”

Roy looked to Maes, who gave him a highly amused smile in response, telling him that  _ yes,  _ this  _ was  _ normal behavior for this man.

Maybe Riza had been right...What exactly had he gotten himself into?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hughes household has several visitors, and it creates a unique atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ed: (casually rude to roy)  
> riza: excuse the fuck out of you  
> roy: no its okay im too gay to be offended

Riza met them at the door of the Hughes house, hair loose around her shoulders and a relaxed air about her that she only really achieved when she could be reasonably confident in Roy’s safety while also not anywhere near him. 

Honestly, the woman’s protective instincts were going to run her into an early grave, if she didn’t ease up. Unfortunately, given the way her eyes narrowed at Edward’s approaching figure, she had no intention of doing so. 

Distantly, Roy remembered that the last time they’d met, Riza had pointed her gun straight into Ed’s face and dared him to test her.

Edward probably remembered the same thing, judging by the way he started to puff up as soon as the woman was in sight. 

“Your bodyguard’s here, too, huh?” Ed said, somehow managing to make a legitimate observation sound heavily condescending. 

“Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye,” Roy introduced. “Lieutenant, Edward Elric. Ed, Riza.” He headed into the house, dropping his voice low as he passed his friend to mutter a semi-joking  _ “Play nice.”  _

He would probably pay for the audacity later, but it was far too tempting to resist.

  
  
  
  


Edward had been reasonably certain that Mustang and all his people were irredeemable assholes, up until he’d met Hughes. Then he’d been certain that they were  _ mostly  _ irredeemable assholes, but Maes in particular was oddly charismatic and probably not altogether a bad guy.

Hawkeye really didn’t change his opinion, much.

He figured the woman probably didn’t like him - he’d figured that out when he was staring down the barrel of her gun during their first meeting, actually. Still, it had been a while since he’d made someone go on full alert just by  _ existing,  _ and the only past instances he had of it were traumatized patients in Granny Pinako’s care who panicked at the idea of being stuck interacting with a heavily disabled child. 

Riza Hawkeye wasn’t fearing his emotional fragility or any such nonsense, but recognizing him as a threat, which...honestly, Edward wasn’t even upset by. It was hard to begrudge the woman for thinking he’d kill Mustang if she let her guard down long enough.

Even Ed wasn’t entirely certain he  _ wouldn’t  _ throttle the bastard. Murder was a pretty firm no-go for him, but if the guy wanted to go a few rounds, Edward wouldn’t be the one to back down. 

“Mr. Elric,” Hawkeye eventually greeted, voice calm and professional in a way that set at odds with her steely gaze, watching Ed’s every move like her namesake bird. “The Colonel says you intend to join our staff.”

“I’m taking the test,” Ed said, waving a hand dismissively. “Whether the military plays along in that guy’s plans if your problem, not mine.” He passed her, heading into the house. “But ideally, yeah, I’ll be under him.”

“You’ll be what?” Maes asked, coming in behind them. “What conversation did I just walk into?”

Ed flushed cherry red. “Shut up, you know what I meant! Assholes. I’d rather be under  _ his command,  _ thanks, because I don’t trust the rest of you bureaucratic death machines not to try and make me destroy a small country or something.” 

“Brother’s very modest,” Alphonse informed Riza. “If they made him level a nation, I’m sure it wouldn’t be any smaller than Creta.”

Edward shot his brother a rude gesture over Hawkeye’s shoulder, which Al predictably ignored.

“You’re opposed to the military, but you’re joining it?” Hawkeye questioned. 

“You were there when the bastard talked me into it,” Edward said, having no patience for her ‘subtle’ prodding. “I can play along if it gets me closer to what I need.”

Maes looked intrigued, and Ed had a moment to wonder at the implication Roy hadn’t shared the perk he’d sold him on with his friends. 

Not that it mattered. None of them knew the truth, and none of them ever  _ would.  _ He wouldn’t let that happen. 

“Before you say anything, by the way,” Ed told her. “I know it’s selfish. I just don’t care.”

Riza’s pinched frown suggested she’d have argued that, had Gracia not stepped out of the kitchen, cutting into the conversation. 

“Hello again, Edward,” she greeted. “How’s the girl doing?”

“Totally recovered,” Ed said, switching his full focus to enthusiastically catching Gracia up on the news of the little girl they’d saved. Gracia had been horrified to learn their entrance to the slums was done in part to rescue a child from death, and had taken to asking Ed for updates whenever she saw them. “Nazli apparently thinks alchemy is awesome, too, which her grandmother just  _ loves.”  _ Ed rolled his eyes. “Apparently nine years old is a prime rebellious phase. She keeps sneaking out to watch us do repairs.”

Gracia laughed. “Children are curious,” she said. “Do you remember what you were like at that age?”

Ed considered it. “At nine, I started an alchemy apprenticeship,” he admitted. “Which I guess doesn’t sound bad, but my teacher was…” 

“Izumi-sensei is terrifying,” Alphonse cut in. “Our training wasn’t really conventional.” 

Ed remembered an island, a knife in hand and colors swirling as hunger set in, a desperation leading him to clutch at ants and insects in search of a way to sustain himself even slightly. 

“Yeah,” he added, weakly. “I think Nazli’s ‘blasphemy’ is probably safer.” 

Not to mention, two years after that, he’d completed that apprenticeship and attempted  _ human transmutation _ . He really didn’t recommend anyone following in his footsteps. 

“Did her mother ever decide if she likes you or not?” Gracia asked, bringing them back to topic. 

“Jamila?” Al laughed. “Oh yeah, she decided.”

Ed glared at his brother. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s  _ very  _ funny, actually.”

Maes looked between them, eyes eager. “Oh? What’s happened, then?”

“The woman who was with us, doing repairs,” Al said. “That was Jamila. Her joke about marrying Ed to one of her older daughters? She’s made it a couple of times already, and I think she’s joking less every time she says it.”

“Well, look at that,” Maes cooed. “You’ve got a potential romance here in Central!”   
“She can hang it up,” Ed said, utterly flat. “I’m not staying in this city, and even if I was, I’m not interested. That’s a hard pass, thanks.”

“Oh?” Maes leaned in, mischief all over his face. “Why not?”

A flush spread across Ed’s nose, and he looked away, petulant. “I’m just not interested. I have more important things to worry about than getting married or whatever. I don’t even want to  _ date,  _ I just want to get shit done and be left alone.”

Roy reappeared out of the kitchen, giving up on stealthily eavesdropping for the opportunity to comment. “You’ve screwed yourself,” he warned Edward. “Maes will play matchmaker until you get married or die. He’s been doing it to me for years.”

“Don’t,” Ed said, tone losing all humor as he looked back to Maes. “I’m not kidding. I don’t have time for that kind of thing.” 

Maes filed that away as another piece of the ongoing puzzle of Edward Elric. “Fine, fine, I’ll let you handle your own affairs. I just want all my friends to have the happiness I have!”

As though to prove the point, he turned around, dragging his wife forward to give her an exaggerated kiss on the cheek.

“Gross,” Ed muttered. “You’re worse than Winry and Paninya.”

“Your friends from the phone?” Gracia guessed. “I recognize the names. You said they were thinking about kids, right? Have they decided?”

Ed shrugged. “I, uh, haven’t talked to them about it.” He was avoiding bringing it back up, actually, and dodging any chance for Winry to take the initiative. He didn’t have an answer to her request, and he didn’t want to touch that until he knew how he felt about it. Luckily, Winry had been serious when she said they weren’t in any hurry.

He’d better make up his mind quickly, though, because if Ridel and Satella did have a kid, Winry would probably be foaming at the mouth for her own. She loved kids. The only thing saving him right now was that she didn’t have any physical reminders that that was the case. 

Maybe he’d get lucky, though, and they’d have a brat that was constantly noisy and made a huge mess and made Winry decide kids weren’t her thing.

Then again, she was  _ married _ to a brat that was constantly noisy and made a huge mess. She was probably immune. 

“You’re pretty uncomfortable about relationships in general, huh?” Maes observed. “Oh, you were a shut-in, right? You’ve probably never dated anyone, then.”

Ed’s face burned again, this time half in indignation. “I-..! That’s none of your business.”

“So you haven’t.”

“I have!” Ed returned. After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “...Winry. It didn’t go well.” 

Maes tipped his head, eyeing Ed like a dog that had caught a scent. “Is that why you’re not interested?”

“No!” Ed scowled. “I’m just not about to try and drag someone else into my life. I have other priorities.” 

“Alright, fine,” Maes sighed, relenting - for now. “I’ll leave you to your isolation. I’m sure Lieutenant Hawkeye will be grateful for it - Roy’s staff is all just as skirt chasing as he is.” 

“I resent that,” Roy muttered.

“It’s true,” Riza countered. To Ed, she said, “Try not to ever let Havoc talk about his relationships. He overshares.” 

“What, more than these idiots?”

Surprisingly, rather than get offended at the insult to her superior, Riza snorted. “Significantly.”

Apparently, thinking relationships were a waste of time was common ground for the blondes. Good to know, Ed supposed, if there wasn’t anything else.

“Can we talk about something else?” he practically begged. “Anything. Anything at all.”

“How are the repairs coming?” Gracia asked.

Ed’s shoulders sagged in relief at the topic change. Gracia was officially his favorite. “Pretty good. Some of the Ishvalans are fine with alchemy, so I repaired a building they can use the easy way, and now we’re just trying to catch the main building up to that one for the others.” 

“The easy way,” Roy echoed. “You built an entire house with alchemy?”

“...Yeah?”

“And that’s the  _ easy  _ way?”

Ed stared at him like he was an idiot. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t have to use tools and I was done in like ten minutes. Easy.”

A transmutation the scale of one of the crumbling buildings in that district was impressive enough on its own, but the idea that Ed had created a new building on top of an existing one, showing a distinctly sharp spatial awareness and the ability to adapt design mid-transmutation, and also managed to simultaneously transmute all the different materials of a house into place, all in  _ ten minutes… _

Edward Elric didn’t seem to realize how casually he’d just revealed his own genius. 

And surrounded by non-alchemists, Roy was the only one to catch it. 

“Alright,” he replied weakly. This man would be the death of him, he could already tell. 

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me,” Ed said. “What the fuck is this about your alchemy not working in rain? Just atomize the water, dumbfuck.” 

Roy sighed. “It’s not the water being on me that’s the problem,” he said. “The ignition cloth of my gloves gets washed out almost instantly. I can atomize the water all day long, but I still won’t be able to make a spark.”

“Why are you using ignition cloth, then?” Ed asked. “There are other ways to make sparks. A regular glove with flint fingertips, or something.”

Roy blinked. 

He’d been trying to sort out his glove issue for  _ years,  _ but the alchemy wasn’t originally his and trying to piece it together had been hard enough, let alone deconstructing it to fix the problems. 

Edward had taken one look at it and went  _ that’s fucking dumb,  _ and corrected it without thought. The correction was basic and inelegant, but also solid and reasonable - a childish solution from someone who didn’t have the objective frustration of being close to the problem, and one that would actually probably work. 

“I’d have to get used to snapping in a way that would make the stones strike just right,” Roy said. “But I suppose that’s something I could be working on.”

“If that works,” Riza said, to Ed, “then I take back all suspicion of you. I’ve been chasing this idiot out of the rain for  _ years _ .”

“I don’t follow any of this conversation anymore,” Maes chimed in. “So I’m going to go ahead and help my lovely wife set the table for dinner, and you guys can join us when the weird science time is over.”

Ed perked up at the word ‘dinner,’ reminding Roy vaguely of a puppy. “Food?”

“Yes,” Gracia cooed to him. “Food. Come in and eat, you’re probably starving.”

“Nah,” Ed responded. “Just hungry as fu-uuu….Hey, Elicia.”

“Big Brother Ed!” Elicia greeted, throwing her arms up and bouncing on her heels, signalling she wanted to be picked up. Ed complied easily, scooping her up without breaking stride, bringing her up to rest on his hip as he headed into the kitchen. 

Roy watched them go, adding  _ casual alchemic genius  _ and  _ good with children  _ to Ed’s ever-growing list of positive traits.

He hadn’t actually written the list down, but he couldn’t tell if it was long enough yet to outweigh all the negative things he - and Hughes, in his absence - had noticed. Things like  _ incredibly short-tempered  _ and  _ paranoid  _ and, according to Maes,  _ horribly self-deprecating.  _

By the time he got Ed under his command, he might actually be able to tell if he liked the man or not.

Well, beyond aesthetically.  _ That  _ was pretty much a given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ed is an adult which means he is not safe from maes  
> no one is safe from maes  
> you can run, you can hide, but he will appear and nag you about the joys of matrimony


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Test prep, and the beginning of the exam.

“So, Ed,” Gracia ventured over dinner. “Have you done anything special to prepare for the state alchemist exam?” 

Ed was of the personal opinion that he could make the kind of awkward wood figure he’d make for his mom as a kid and be praised as a genius, considering the low standards the military held. Ed had gotten his hands on the published works of many alchemists through the years, and the ones by state alchemists all read with the same undertone of ‘I am parroting back what I read exactly.’ 

Al must have felt the less than complimentary response building in his brother, because he interrupted with a better question. “There’s a practical portion, right? What are you going to do?”

Edward considered his options. “Dunno,” he said. “I should do something cool, though - that's how they name you, right?”

“It is,” Roy confirmed. “So you should probably know what kind of image you want to project before you go in.” 

Ed didn't really have a lot of experience with having any image to establish or maintain - his alchemy was held to a high standard and the rest of him vanished into the background, his physical person becoming a strange cryptid the townspeople of Risembool gossiped about but never actually saw. 

There had been a rumor - several rumors, actually - that Ed had died. There were also speculations that the armor that walked around town contained  _ both  _ Elric boys, working together to seem more intimidating.

Ed had been tempted to let the former go entirely, and just hope that being presumed dead meant he would be left alone. Except any time someone tried to mention his death to Granny Pinako or Al, they ruined it and  _ laughed. _

At least he could make all his alchemy commission customers pay Pinako directly, rather than letting him be the one to pass it along when his automail needed work, so he didn't have to report any income or pay taxes. He wasn't entirely sure how those even worked, honestly. 

Anyway, the point was, he didn't know what he wanted people to think of him. As long as whatever he got sounded cool, he didn't care much what his title was. 

“If I picked the names,” Hughes said, “I'd keep the title the people of the slums already gave you.”

This was the first Ed had heard of any standing nickname, and be perked up curiously. “What name?”

“Edward Elric,  _ the People’s Alchemist.” _

Ed froze, then flushed. “I bet Haider started that,” he muttered. “I never should have used that quote.” 

“I like it,” Al said. “You care so much about people, it’s nice to know they’ve noticed.”

Ed shifted uncomfortably under the looks the others gave him, and locked his eyes down to the table, refusing to analyze their expressions. He didn’t want to know what they thought about him. “I’m not doing anything exciting,” Ed grumbled. “All the things I’ve fixed have been super basic. It’s no trouble, so it’s not a big deal.”

Across the table, unbeknownst to Ed, Roy and Maes made eye contact. Roy quirked an eyebrow in silent question, and Maes shrugged in response. He didn’t know why Ed was like that, either. He’d have to give Roy the full breakdown of what little he’d learned later. 

“Big brother Ed,” Elicia interrupted the awkward silence that had fallen over the table. “If desert has milk in it, can I have yours?”

Ed looked up, nose scrunching up as he fought to keep amusement out of his expression. “Your mom cooks pretty well,” he said. “It would have to have an awful lot of milk to ruin that.”

Elicia bounced in her seat. “Some deserts have lots of milk! Like ice cream.”

“Ice cream is gross,” Ed conceded. “But I don’t think your mom will let you have two bowls, if that’s what she’s got.”

Elicia pouted. “Yeah, that’s true.” 

“Who doesn’t like ice cream?” Roy asked, bewildered. “I thought that was a universal thing.”

Ed made a face. “Listen, mixing sugar and milk together and freezing it might sound like a good time to you, but some of us recognize that that’s  _ nasty _ .” 

Roy had to admit that when phrased like that, it sounded pretty gross, but that wasn’t actually how ice cream worked. He opened his mouth to say as much, when Alphonse cut in, shaking his head vigorously.

“Don’t try and argue,” he warned. “Brother’s set in his terrible opinions. Trying to convince him he’s wrong is just frustrating and exhausting.”

“You can’t be  _ wrong  _ about an  _ opinion,”  _ Ed countered. “And even if you could, you guys would be the wrong ones, because milk and all its derivatives are  _ gross.”  _

“What’s a deravitif?” Elicia asked.

“Derivative,” Ed corrected. “It means stuff that comes from the same thing. Like... ice cream and cheese both come from milk, so they’re derivatives of milk.” 

“Oh,” Elicia murmured. “Cool.”

Roy turned to Gracia, seated beside him, and murmured, “How many new words has he taught her since he showed up?”   
“Her kindergarten teacher is very impressed with her,” Gracia replied, in lieu of an actual answer. “As is most of her class.”

Roy looked to Ed, who caught his curious gaze and bristled immediately. 

“What?” he demanded. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You like children?” Roy asked, instead of answering. “I wouldn’t have guessed that from you.”

Ed started to reply, but Al got his voice first. “Brother loves kids! That’s why I’m hoping he agrees to-...”   
“Hey, hey!” Ed interrupted. “We don’t need to share that with everybody.”

“Share what?” Maes asked, leaning forward, a bloodhound after a scent. “I’m interested now.”

Ed flushed red, though whether in anger or embarrassment, Roy couldn’t tell. 

“Our friend is thinking about having a baby,” Al told them. 

“Oh, right,” Gracia said. “The Rockbell girl, right? Um...Winry?”

“Yeah,” Ed confirmed. “Winry and her asshole wife.”

“Brother,” Al chastised. “Paninya apologized for thinking you were a kid.”

“She was being threatened with a wrench by Winry Rockbell,” Ed countered. “Apologies made under duress do not count.”

“What does this have to do with you?” Roy interrupted, curiosity winning over manners. 

“Nothing!” Ed said firmly. “Nothing at all. Al, shut up.”

Al sighed, but relented. “Fine, nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

Maes was most certainly  _ not _ going to forget about it, but he’d drop it for the moment, at least. Roy and Gracia did too, the latter out of genuine respect and the former in faith that Maes would pass it on once he’d found out himself. 

In the meantime, though, they let it go.

  
  
  
  


Maes took Roy into the kitchen to talk the second the Elric brothers had left for the night.

“What do you know about him, so far?” Roy asked immediately. “Because I’m getting nothing from him.”

“He’s weird,” Maes told him. “He hates himself...like, a  _ lot _ . I don’t know what kind of skeletons he’s got in his closet, but they must be pretty nasty. He has two automail limbs, and his brother has to wear that armor all the time, because of some plague when they were kids. It makes it hard for Alphonse to eat, which is why he didn’t eat dinner with us. The same plague killed their mother. Ed has a complex about his dad.” Maes rubbed the back of his neck. “Really, beyond that, there’s not much solid I’ve managed to work out. I think...I’m pretty sure something bad happened to them. I don’t know if it was the disease hitting or what, but Edward is extremely damaged by it. He was a shut-in for years, only ever talking to his family before you found him. Which is weird, because he very clearly likes people. He doesn’t trust me, even now. I don’t think he trusts  _ anyone,  _ except his brother.” He grimaced. “Actually, he might not even trust Al completely. I get the feeling he’s keeping something close to his chest, and I don’t have even the slightest idea what it is.”

“So he’s a paranoid ex-hermit with a laundry list of issues,” Roy summarized. “Who is anti-military, passionate about social justice, and extremely short tempered.”

“A great combination for a state alchemist,” Maes said. “Really, Roy, you outdid yourself here.”

Roy gave him an unimpressed look in response. “I’m not exactly looking for  _ fans  _ of the military. I want to change things - I need people who recognize that change is necessary.”

“Be careful with him, Roy,” Maes said, voice softening significantly. “He’s been isolated for years, and it shows. He may be a grown man in appearance, but mentally, he’s basically just a kid. He doesn’t know what the world is like, what he’s getting into. He’s still thinking of it like it’s just a game he has to play.”

“Isn’t it?” Roy asked.

“You know it’s not that simple,” Maes replied. “Seriously, Roy. Watch him. He’s contradictory. As jaded and scarred as he is, he’s still naive in some ways. He can’t see how deep things go. Take him and the Ishvalans - he’s not just making a point, Roy, he genuinely doesn’t understand the tension between them and Amestrians. He doesn’t understand why people feel the way they do, why they do certain things. People just don’t make sense to him.”

“He’ll learn,” Roy said. “No one can stay innocent forever.”

“He’s not innocent,” Maes said. “He’s just…He just doesn’t get it. He still sees the world in black and white. If you try to drag him into the grey, it’s just gonna get you both hurt.”

“So we widen his view a little,” Roy decided. “...How?”

Maes shook his head. “That’s not something we can do. All we can do is show him as much of the world as possible, and hope he eventually catches on himself.”

While Roy could see the logic there, it still made him slightly anxious. Leaving things up to fate like that never sat well with him - especially with the very good chance that Ed ‘catching on’ could very well end in pain for all involved. 

  
  
  
  
  


Roy and Riza both got hotel rooms, courtesy of the military as accommodation for the exams, since Roy was there as a sponsor of one of the applicants and generally regarded as a rather influential figure. They liked having famous state alchemists at the exams, as something for the examinees to gawk at and strive to impress. 

Them getting of out the Hughes household meant that they were no longer in position to intercept the Elrics during their semi-regular visits to Maes and his family, so they ultimately saw little of each other until exam day rolled around. 

Day one of the exams was the written test, and Roy arrived at the test sight to find Maes waiting outside the testing room, Alphonse standing at his side. 

“Good, you’re here,” Maes greeted. “Edward already went inside. We just have to wait, now.”

“The test is several hours, isn’t it?” Roy asked. “We better get comfortable.”

While the assessment was fair, it wasn’t entirely accurate - while six hours were blocked out for the examinees to take for the test, only just under three had passed before the doors opened, revealing a tiny blond man in mid-yawn. 

“That was fucking boring,” Ed informed them, when they rushed to meet him. 

“You didn’t take very long,” Maes observed, tone just missing nervous. “Everything alright?”

Ed shrugged. “It doesn’t take that long to bubble in answers.”

Bubbling in the answers was not the part of the exam that was meant to take time. Most of the exam questions were advanced physics problems, complicated chemical equations, and highly convoluted alchemic theory questions.

That Ed hadn’t even noted the content of the test was concerning, either because he’d not taken it seriously or because he was intimidatingly smart.

The next day, when they reported to the testing location, they learned it was the latter. Ed’s answer sheet had been scored by the machine, and came back a top score, the number suggesting he only missed a handful of questions.

“I wonder how many you actually got wrong,” Alphonse murmured.

“Probably less than it thinks I did,” Ed said. “Those bubbles were damn annoying, and I kind of blew threw some of them. I wouldn’t be surprised if the machine couldn’t figure out what I put down.”

“Well then,” Roy said. “That slightly worrying revelation aside, we now have the only part of the test I think you have to worry about.”

Ed straightened, eyebrow raised. “Yeah? What part?”

“The psychological exam,” Roy said, and then smiled wickedly as Ed’s face paled and twisted into a grimace. “Yeah, that was my thought, too.”

Edward Elric was an alchemic genius, but he was also a tiny bit deranged. 

It would be interesting to see what the psychologists made of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ed: ive got this, no prob  
> roy: and now theyre gonna make sure you are mentally sound  
> ed, who is 10 seconds from a breakdown at all times: well fuck


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ed: im a perfectly healthy human being  
> psychiatrist: so-  
> ed: rant about my psychological trauma? okay so when i was three-

The room where the psychological assessment was to be held was unsettling, consisting of a table with three people seated at it, and two chairs facing each other in the center of the room, one of which held a fourth person. 

“Edward Elric?” the woman in the chair asked, as he entered. “Nice to meet you. Please, sit.” She gestured to the chair across from him.

Ed crossed the room warily, taking the seat. “...Hey. So is this an interview kind of thing, or..?”

The woman smiled at him, and Ed wondered if it was just his paranoia that immediately took it as condescending rather than kind. “I’m Dr. Ethel Warner. I’m a military-employed psychologist, and it is my job to maintain the mental health of those soldiers who have experienced trauma and chose to remain in the service of Amestris.”

Ed stared at her, his look carrying an unspoken _ “And?” _

She glanced down at the clipboard she held in her hands, trailing fingers across the paper on it, the sound setting Ed’s teeth on edge. The way she was holding the clipboard, angled slightly up towards her chest, ensured Ed couldn’t see what was on it, and he didn’t like that idea. “Typically, the psychological evaluation would be conducted by the panel behind me, an ‘interview thing,’ as you put it. A few special cases were set aside as exceptions. Yours was one of them.”   
“Why?” Ed asked. “Why am I different?”   
“A variety of reasons can lead to you being marked for evaluation. Your sponsor, your background, your reputation...I believe all of these together accounted for you being in this chair.”

Ed frowned. “So because Mustang dragged me out of Risembool for this, I have to prove I’m not crazy?”

The woman gave a soft, insincere laugh, and shook her head. “Nothing like that. I am meant to verify you are capable of handling military assignments, and if you would need accomodations.” 

“I am,” Ed said, “and I won’t. What else?”

The doctor - Warner, she’d said? - drummed her long nails against the metal clasp at the top of the clipboard. “You’re not very comfortable with scrutiny,” she observed. “The military will put you under a watchful eye more often than not. Can you handle that?”

“I don’t care if people are watching me,” Ed said. “I don’t like the idea of people picking apart my brain, is all.”

Warner hummed. “It’s normal to want to keep one’s mind a private affair, but I need to be certain of your stability before giving you military clearance.” She glanced down to her papers, lifting one slightly to peek at the page underneath. “I’d like to review what little information we have on file for you, if that’s alright.”

Ed wasn’t sure why she’d even bother acting like he had a choice. 

“You have a brother who came to Central with you, yes?” she asked, raising her eyes back to his. “But no records of any other living family.”   
“My mother died when I was four,” Ed confirmed. “And before you ask, I lost my arm and leg at eleven, so I’m fourteen years over it.”

“Straight to the point,” she said. “Right. Well, how did you come about being recommended for this position by Colonel Mustang?” 

Saying ‘the bastard hunted me down’ probably wouldn’t go very far in his favor, so Ed took a different approach. “The Colonel was looking for alchemists. People pointed him my way. That’s pretty much it.”

“Colonel Mustang reported it as a happy accident,” Warner informed him. “He claimed he was originally looking for your father.”

“Yeah, well,” Ed started, before biting down on the ‘get in line’ he’d been about to throw out. ‘Daddy issues’ probably wouldn’t do him any favors, either. “I get the feeling he’s full of shit half the time he speaks, anyway.”

Warner watched him with slightly narrowed eyes. “How did you lose your arm and leg, again, Mr. Elric?”

“Plague,” he replied, utterly flat. “Nice tactful question.”

“I’m testing a theory,” she said. “You lost your limbs to illness?”

“Yeah?”

She tipped her head. “Your missing limbs are on opposing sides of your body, aren’t they? Strange for the illness to select that combination of places to settle.”

Ed grit his teeth. “Yeah, well, I’m just that level of unlucky.”

“I’m going to be blunt,” she said, “because you seem to be the kind that appreciates that. I don’t think you lost your limbs to illness. I think you lost them in a more traumatic event, and that you are hiding it so as to not reveal the extent of the potential psychological damage it did.”

Ed scowled. “Look, I’m-...”

“You’re stubborn, suspicious, and quick to anger,” Warner summarized. “Many of my patients are soldiers who participated in the war, and display similar qualities. They’re a common response to trauma.”

“They’re also a common response to being called a liar by a random doctor,” Ed countered. 

Warner smiled at him, this one looking genuinely amused, oddly enough. “Not random, Mr. Eric. Well selected.” She uncrossed her legs, and lowered the clipboard, so Ed could finally see its surface. 

While there was a whole hidden stack that contained unknown secrets, the page on top was blank.

“My evaluation of you is this,” Warner said. “You’ve been gritting your teeth this whole time. While it’s not great that you’re so bothered by me, it shows remarkable restraint, considering I’ve been coming at you aggressively on purpose and you still haven’t lashed out beyond a tiny bit of snark.” She waved to the clipboard on her lap. “But your eyes stay on this, every time I move it, and you have all the traits I already mentioned. I think, in the long run, the military would have little effect on your mental state. If you’re going to be in it, though, I’d prefer you were assigned a psychologist.”

“Like you?”

“Possibly me,” Warner said. “But not necessarily.” 

Ed’s face twisted into a grimace. “I’d really rather not.”

“Well,” she said, “I could pass you with restrictions, or I could fail you. Which would you prefer?”

Edward was not a fan of the idea of being under a microscope, but when weighed against Al’s only chance...it was hardly a choice at all. 

“Fine,” he said. “Whatever I’ve gotta do, just...fine.”

“Excellent,” she said. “In that case, you’re dismissed.” 

  
  
  
  
  


With his psychological evaluation more or less cleared, all Ed had left was the practical.

When he entered the room for that, he made a beeline straight for Al, where he stood between Roy and Maes. 

“I hate psychiatrists,” Ed informed his brother. “That was fucking awful.”

Beside Al, Roy cleared his throat.   
Ed snapped his eyes up to the other man. “What? It was. Oh, and get this, she-...”

“Edward,” Maes interrupted smoothly. “You should probably start your exam.”

Ed turned around, finding a gathering of important-looking military people in the middle of the room, watching him expectantly.

“Oh, whoops,” he muttered, heading to stand before them. “Sorry.”

“You are Edward Elric, then?” a tall black-haired holder guy with an actual  _ eyepatch  _ said. “I had heard of your father in passing, once or twice. Our expectations are predictably a little bit high.” 

Ed twitched at the mention of  _ that  _ asshole, and started to reply, before a large hand landed on his shoulder.

“Brother,” Alphonse said to him, quiet and tense. “That is Fuhrer Bradley.” 

Ed faltered. “The Fuhrer,” he parroted. “The fucking  _ Fuhrer?”  _

Some of the military personel around the room shifted, trying to disguise the threat of laughter. 

Ed’s face burned, but he persisted. “Why is the Fuhrer interested in entry-level alchemists?”

“Not them in general,” Bradley admitted. “I’ve taken a particular interest in your case. Like I said, your father has us expecting good things.”

Ed narrowed his eyes, scanning Bradley’s face, but if he was a liar he was damn good at it. 

Well, at least Ed knew what he was going to do, then. 

He brought his hands up, clapping them together. “Should I just start the test, then?”

“Please,” Bradley invited.

Ed grinned, and separated his hands, dropping into a crouch on the ground. From the floor of the exam room, he began to pull matter in, shaping it into the form he desired.

In mere moments, he was standing again, holding a spear.

He examined it, turning it this way and that to inspect its quality, before he moved. Swinging the spear around, tipping it parallel to his body, and then thrusting it forward.

The spear pointed inches from Bradley’s face, the man’s raised hand the only thing that stopped the guns pointed at Ed from firing.

Ed turned the staff sideways in his hand, letting the charm on the end swing down, dangling before Bradley’s eyes. The same design from the earrings the Ishvalan allies wore, a symbol claimed to mean equality.

“For the record,” Ed said, “I’m  _ nothing _ like my father.”

Bradley’s chin tipped up slightly, his lips twitching as though in amusement. “I see,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind. I look forward to seeing more of you, Edward Elric.”

He turned, then, walking toward the exit, swinging his sword around to slide back into its sheath.

Wait. What?

Ed made a strangled sound as the spear in his hand fell apart, thin lines sliced neatly through the tip of it.

He hadn’t even seen Bradley  _ move.  _

_ Well played,  _ Ed thought.  _ Well fucking played. _

Maybe the military would be interesting after all. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


“My brother threatened the Fuhrer of Amestris.”

Gracia blinked, fork freezing halfway to her mouth. “...Pardon?”

Her wide, alarmed eyes turned to Roy, who shook his head with clear exasperation. “I wish he was joking,” he said. “But no. He pointed a spear right in Bradley’s face.”

“I wasn’t arrested,” Ed reminded them. “Which means he knew I wasn’t serious.”

“Not that  _ we  _ could tell,” Maes chimed in. “Because we were pretty sure you were going to genuinely attempt high treason.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Yes, I would genuinely kill a guy in front of, like, twelve people with guns.”

“Why are the  _ witnesses _ the problem?” Al muttered. “I didn’t raise you right.”

Ed flipped him off without even turning to look. 

“Edward does have a point,” Roy said, slowly, before raising hands in surrender when three incredulous stares (and one highly suspicious glare) turned his way. “Bradley seemed to think it was funny, actually. We won’t know  _ how  _ funny until the results come in tomorrow, though.”

“So it’s a waiting game,” Ed said, leaning back in his chair. “Well then, let’s fuckin’ wait.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The folder Mustang handed him was light, which was weird, because Ed felt like something so life-changing should be a bit more substantial. 

“Open it!” Al urged. 

Ed rolled his eyes at his brother’s wild enthusiasm, swallowed back the nerves that threatened to build, and tore into the envelope.

The paper he pulled out was nice and official, reading a whole lot of general uppity nonsense. The part his eyes narrowed in on was the only one that mattered, though.

He was accepted.

_ FULLMETAL,  _ the paper dubbed him. Whether that was meant to be a reference to the fact that he had two automail limbs or the idiom ‘nerves of steel’ was a toss-up. 

It didn’t matter either way. As of this moment, Edward Elric was a state alchemist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ed you cant just threaten the head of state smh


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To East City, and to work!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops im not dead hello friends  
> enjoy some Shit

“I pray for your safety,” Jamila murmured.

“In both journey and life,” Amna added, clasping Ed’s hands in her own. “We cannot accompany you to the train station to see you off, but know we are with you nonetheless.”

Ed shuffled awkwardly under the attention. “Thank you,” he mumbled, embarrassed at their display of support. “I’ll be alright. Will you guys be okay? I think I finished all the big stuff…”

He trailed his eyes around the building, taking in patched walls and reinforced supports, only for Amna’s hand to catch under his chin and turn him back to face her again.

“Silly boy,” she tutted. “We are grateful for your efforts, as they’ve put us in a better position to thrive in the future.”

“Which reminds me,” Jamila said. “We have a gift for you.”

Ed flushed. “Oh no,” he breathed out. “You didn’t have to…”

Jamila turned and waved, and a moment later Haider approached, holding a leather bag.

“You were given a watch to carry, weren’t you?” Jamila asked.

Ed blinked, then reached into his pocket, pulling out the watch in question. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be like an ID, or something. A symbol of position.”

Jamila reached out, and hooked a finger under the watch’s chain, lifting it up. With her other hand, she reached into the bag Haider held out to her, and a moment later moved to attach whatever she’d drawn out to the chain.

When her hands moved away, the watch chain sported a small charm, the same symbol he’d made for his spear at the exam dangling next to the pocket watch.

“It is presumptuous of us,” Amna said, “but we would like it if you would carry our support with you. If you would show the world that not all men are meant to be monsters.”

Ed’s throat was uncomfortably tight, and he debated his next move heavily before just giving in, launching forward to drag both women into a hug.

His head ended up resting on the space where their shoulders met, both their heads turned down to bury their faces into his hair. Later, he could be embarrassed about the ridiculously large height difference he had with even the relatively short women, but for the moment, he just marvelled at the realization that he hadn’t actually hugged anyone in ages. He’d held Elicia a few times, but most of his physical interactions aside from that in the past few years consisted of trying to ignore the hollow clunk of metal when he touched Al or trying to dodge a hit swung his way by Granny Pinako.

Damn it, he needed to get out of there, or he was gonna fucking _cry,_ and no one needed to see that.

“If you need me, tell Maes,” Ed told them when he pulled back. “He’s military, but he’s a friend, too. If you need anything at all, he can help, or he can get me and _I_ can help.”

“We’ll be fine,” Amna promised. “Go, now, before you miss your train.”

“There are plenty of trains,” Ed countered. “It doesn’t have to be that one.”

_“Edward.”_

“Alright, alright,” he conceded. “I’ll come see you guys right away the next time I get dragged up here, I promise.”

“We’ll hold you to it,” Jamila replied. “Now _go.”_

  
  


He ended up being late.

Not _super_ late, the train was still there, but Mustang was definitely looking annoyed and Al’s initial response to his appearance was a highly exaggerated sigh.

“I was thinking we’d have to leave without you,” Hawkeye informed him.

“It’s not my fault I’d rather hang out with them than you,” Ed said. “They _like_ me.”

“Implying we don’t?” Roy asked.

“You like my brain,” Ed dismissed. “And my kickass alchemy. They like my _personality_.”

“You have one of those?”

Ed glared at his brother, who snickered in response.

“We can argue on the train,” Hawkeye cut in, before any of the men could continue. “We need to get moving.”

She turned and led the way onto the train without waiting for any further input.

Roy followed after her immediately, leaving Ed to look to Al in bewilderment, who simply shrugged and started on his own way.

Given that state alchemists were automatically Majors, Riza was lowest ranking member of their party, and yet still held an unquestionable authority over the others. Her word was law.

Ed liked her, he thought. She was kind of bad-ass.

  
  
  


Mustang’s office was about as boring as Ed expected, and they were met at the door by four men, standing in a line in their military uniforms at a relaxed mimicry of attention.

“Alright, Ed,” Mustang said, entering the room and gesturing to the others. “This is my team. Team, Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. From left to right, these are Master Sergeant Kain Fuery, Warrant Officer Vato Falman, Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, and Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc.”

“Good to meet ya, boss,” Havoc greeted.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mustang quipped.

Glaring at him, Ed entered the room fully, looking over the others. “...I, uh. ‘Boss?’”  
There was silence.

“U-um, sir,” Fuery spoke up. “State Alchemists automatically have the rank of Major.”  
“I know,” Ed told him. “They told me. Is that higher than you guys?”

Everyone turned to him in disbelief.

“What?” he snapped. “I don’t fucking know military ranks. I’m lower than Mustang but higher than Hawkeye, that’s all I’ve got.”

“Hawkeye, Havoc, and me are all even,” Breda told him. “Falman’s right below us, and Fuery’s the baby.”

Falman sighed deeply. “Fuery is one rank below me,” he translated. “You, for reference, are three ranks above Hawkeye, and two below Mustang.”

Ed turned a sly grin on the Colonel. “So I’m closer to stealing your spot than they are to stealing mine?”

“No one in their right mind would give you a position of authority,” Hawkeye answered in his stead. “You threatened the Fuhrer of Amestris.”

“He _what?”_

Ed rolled his eyes at the exclamation from the other officers, as Al happily cut in to recount the story of Ed’s minor act of treason.

Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal. Ed didn’t really have any respect for authority, and they’d all need to learn that at some point.

Being ‘boss’ was kind of cool, though, if it just meant they might actually have to listen if he told them to fuck off.

It was probably more work than that, but he could dream.

  
  
  


“What do you know about Fort Briggs?”

Ed pursed his lips, racking his brain for anything he could recall.

The long pause was apparently answer enough, because Mustang gave a heavy sigh. “Right. You have a lot of catching up to do, as a former shut-in, so sit down. I’ll give you the basics.”

Ed plopped down on the couch in his office, kicking his feet up in the process.

Roy nearly burst a vein, but forced himself to stay neutral.

“Fort Briggs is the perfect defensive position,” he informed Ed. “Just like the Eastern soldiers - that’s us, by the way - are the perfect offensive force.”

“Nothing’s ever perfect,” Ed replied dismissively.

“Exactly,” Roy said. “Which is why _you_ get the honor of dropping in for a visit.”

“...I what?”

Roy gave a small, amused smile at Ed’s confusion. “Fort Briggs has no alchemy experience,” Roy said. “And traditional soldiers can only do so much if they were attacked by one. I’m sending you to look the place over and try and see if you can’t help them fortify it a little better.”

“Make ‘perfect defense’ actually decent,” Ed said. “Got it.”

Roy was going to strangle him.

Instead, he said, “Normally you’d have to go in uniform, but given your unique situation, you’ll just have to show your watch and give them a letter from me when you get there.”

Ed scowled at the reminder. The ‘situation’ in question was that Ed was _tiny,_ and none of the standard-issue uniforms fit him. Given that they were specially made to resist tampering with alchemy, him simply messing with one to trim it to the right size wasn’t really a feasible option.

Ed probably could have done it anyway, but they’d all universally agreed that Ed was better off staying low-profile as much as possible, given his general disregard for propriety and military policy.

Roy slid a sealed envelope across the desk. “You’ll be given a travel stipend to pay for a train to Briggs, and you can leave whenever you’re ready.”  
“I’ll grab the next train,” Ed said, coming up to pick up the letter. “No sense waiting around here.”

Roy eyed Ed for a moment. “You just got here today,” Roy pointed out. “You don’t want to sort out your living situation first?”

“Why would I?” Ed asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to the door, where his suitcase was still sitting. “I’m just gonna take that with me. Unpacking it and then packing it again would be a waste of time.”

Ed didn’t wait for an answer, simply turning around and marching out of the office, apparently satisfied with his own logic.

Roy looked to Al, whose large metal shoulders lifted in a shrug.

“Brother kept most of his stuff packed up at Granny’s, and we lived there for years,” Al told him.

“He’s...restless. He’s got this thing about never looking back, and that usually includes looking around where he already is.”

The younger brother turned to follow the elder out the door.

“Alphonse,” Roy called. When the man turned to look back at him, he gave a small nod toward the door, where Ed had left. “Keep an eye on him?”

Alphonse’s face was not visible behind the metal casing he lived within, but Roy felt like he was probably smiling. “Always.”

  
  
  


Briggs was pretty, except for all the _fucking snow._

“My feet are full of snow,” Al complained, as they trudged their way toward the fort. “It’s getting harder to move.”

Ed clapped almost absentmindedly, reaching out to press a hand to Al’s arm, transmuting the metal to heat and melt out the contents.

Water washed out the snow in a circle around Al’s feet, while steam rose from the cracks in the armor ominously.

“What the _hell?”_

Ed stopped abruptly, looking up to see a soldier staring at them - at _Al,_ more likely, because that trick had looked really creepy.

The gun that was steady, though, and Ed was impressed that the soldier wasn’t panicking about Ed apparently boiling his brother alive.

“Are you from Fort Briggs?” Ed called. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his watch, dangling it from between two fingers as his ID. “I’m a state alchemist. Mustang sent me.”

“Colonel Mustang?” the soldier asked. “You’re who he sent? Do you have proof?”

Ed snapped his pocket watch up into his palm, letting the chain dangle instead as he dug in his other pocket for the letter.

“What is _that?”_

Ed froze, raising his eyes to the soldier. He was wearing goggles, so his eyes were hard to follow, but Ed still had a good feeling he knew what the soldier was looking at.

“None of your business,” Ed told him, pulling out the letter and crossing the space between them to shove it into the soldier’s hands.

“That’s a _komboloi_ ,” the soldier said, reaching out to catch the charm hanging from Ed’s watch in his hand. “You are _ghurayb?_ ”

Ed stilled, eyes flicking across the face of the man in front of him.

Goggles could be excused as a way to keep the swirling ice out of your eyes, but it wasn’t snowing right then. Combine that with the light brown skin of his face…

“You’re Ishvalan,” Ed murmured. “An Ishvalan soldier?”

“Shh,” the man hissed. “My name is Miles. No one here knows but the General.”

“The General?”

“Major General Olivier Armstrong,” Miles told them. “She’s in charge here. If you’re who Mustang sent, you’ll need to go straight to her.” He shouldered his gun, then, relaxing a fraction. “I’ll take you to her.”

He turned and started marching toward the fort without another word.

Ed would have to find a time to explain that they weren’t actually believers, later, but for now, he really wanted to see how this place worked.

His first note was probably going to be to tighten security a little, because an Ishvalan charm and two somewhat easily forged items was not a very secure entrance pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst i have. another fma fic right now with trans female ed if you want another au  
> i havent decided yet if im gonna include a ship in it or not so if any of you want to go check it out and vote on potential ships id appreciate it //end shameless plug


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